


you strayed into my  arms and there you stayed

by saturnblushes (writingforhugs)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: (s), Europe, Gen, Multilingual Character, Natasha's perspective, Romanian Bucky Barnes, Year Abroad, bucky and steve are main focus, friends who are concerned, summary sounds darker than this is it's actually quite cheery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25114546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingforhugs/pseuds/saturnblushes
Summary: Steve comes back from a year in Europe with a shadow.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Riley/Sam Wilson
Comments: 34
Kudos: 240





	you strayed into my  arms and there you stayed

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't so much a narrative, more a collection of scenes with a general direction. I don't know anything about D.C. or Romania but I live in Europe and also have an artistic license! Please enjoy living vicariously through fictional accounts of being in public with friends since it's not a good idea right now!
> 
> Title from Joan Baez' 'Diamonds and Rust' which really doesn't have anything to do with this fic but is pretty good.
> 
> Also please notify me of any spelling/grammar errors :)

It was a pleasantly sunny morning when Nat shoved Clint into her car and then picked up Sam from outside a coffee shop and _then_ drove them all to the airport to pick up Steve.

“Yo, I’ve missed him,” Sam said in-between sips of his iced coffee. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Nat shot him a look because the man was a therapist and was always extolling the importance of sharing one’s emotions. “I’m pretty sure he knows,” she said instead.

Clint, who was relegated to the backseat like always, leaned forward to speak.

“You think he’s going to be different? Europe’s a whole other way of life.”

Sam squinted at the traffic. “Europe isn’t one culture, Barton.”

“I know that,” said Clint. “I’m just saying. Is he gonna be like New York Steve anymore? Or is he gonna be _different_ and worldly?” He wiggled his fingers as if to make a point.

Nat drummed her hands on the steering wheel. She’d been bummed that she had to bring her truck, but her Corvette wouldn’t have fit four of them plus Steve’s luggage, and the roads were congested enough that she wouldn’t have been able to go fast anyway.

“I think Steve will be just like he always is, though I don’t think refinement is a bad thing.”

“You think Steve Rogers needs refining?” Clint asked.

“Every American needs refining,” Nat shot back. Then she muttered in Russian under her breath because she knew it pissed off both of them that they couldn’t understand.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Sam said, gesturing with his reusable cup. It had a falcon on the side. “And you can’t talk to Steve in any other language but English, okay, because I _know_ you’re gonna be talking shit about me and Clint.”

“That’s kind of phobic, Sam,” Nat said, but she was grinning. Sam pulled a face.

“Steve’ll be swanning around speaking French or something obscure, wearing a beret and scoffing at the rest of us and my high school language education means I’m not ready to stand up for myself if you two start talking about me. You two are bad enough in English.”

Nat smiled, and then felt a wave of longing for Steve. He’d been gone a year, using the money his mother had left him to visit various art schools and institutions across Europe to learn and thrive and do whatever the hell he wanted. He deserved it all after everything he’d been through before he was even eighteen, but god, she’d missed him. Sam was right, they all had. They were a quartet, not a trio, and having him gone for so long had been like missing a limb. Jury was out on which limb was who. Clint had claimed the right arm.

They’d had Skype calls and Facetime and texts and calls and near-constant postcards. Steve had sent them from Rome, Vienna, Paris, Bucharest, Dublin, Munich, Oslo, Warsaw, Prague, Crema, the Jungfrau region, and more. (He was officially the best-travelled of them all.) Nat had half of the postcards stuck on her and Clint’s fridge, and the rest had gone to Sam or Wanda or anyone else who wanted them, as if they didn’t have their own. Steve had sent a lot of postcards.

“It really has been a year,” she murmured, accelerating to maintain her position in the queue of traffic.

“I know,” Sam mused. He tilted his head back. “I remember dropping him off. It was like seeing our son off to college.”

“Steve is our collective child, isn’t he?” Nat grinned.

“Well, little Steven says he’s just got through security,” Clint reported. Nat glanced at the time. They were a little behind schedule, but hopefully they’d manage to get there just in time to greet Steve so no one had to wait around for too long.

“Do you think he’ll go back?” Nat wondered aloud. “I mean, did you see him in Prague? All those photos were gorgeous. He was having way too good of a time.”

“He’s hiding some ugly photos of himself, I know it,” Sam said. “We have to get his phone from him for blackmail purposes.”

“Did you check his apartment?” Clint asked.

“Yeah, it’s all good,” Nat said. “Decorations are up and ready to go.”

Steve had rented out his apartment to an old college roommate while he’d been gone, and she’d vacated it a week and a half ago. Nat had been tasked with checking that it was still in one piece (as if Kate would be the kind of person to damage someone’s place). She’d been happy to see that all the plants were alive and that it was clean and tidy, but she’d gone around with a mop and a vacuum and some surface cleaner to give it a final spruce up.

Then Sam had arrived around 2pm to help put up decorations. Some lights, a tacky WELCOME BACK banner, a balloon. It wasn’t much, but it was the least they could do to welcome him back. Steve had already said yes to a proper gathering in a week or so, once he’d settled back into the States and once Nat, Clint, and Sam had gotten him to themselves for a bit. They also needed to make sure as many people as possible could coordinate to meet in the city. Their friendship group was rather spread out nowadays.

“He says he can’t wait for pancakes,” Clint said, eyeing his phone. Nat broke free from the traffic with an internal cheer.

After picking Steve up from the airport, they were heading straight for Angie’s _,_ a vintage-style diner which had _the best_ food in the city, to grab brunch. Clint had promised to stay sober and drive on the way back, and Nat was more than a little ready for mimosas and intense gossiping with Steve. Skype happy hours were great, but it was just not the same.

“I mean, did you _see_ his apartment in Prague?” Sam asked. Sam had a thing with Prague. Seeing Steve in bars and at historical landmarks and living it up at various art academies and galleries had done something to him. _It’s not my fault I grew up in a landlocked state and have never left the continent_ he’d said when she’d asked about it. Then, begrudgingly, _yes, I am jealous._

“That place was stunning. It had history. It had natural lighting. It looked like something from a film,” he sighed. He gazed ahead, hand instinctively bracing against the dash as Nat span around a bend in the road. “And so cheap, too.”

“It’s cheap because you live in D.C., Sam,” Nat deadpanned, the wheel sliding in her palms. “And it looked like it had so much history and character because you live in D.C., _Sam_.”

Sam flicked her arm.

“Everything is this country is like, barely two hundred years old,” Clint said.

“The US is older than two hundred years old,” Sam said, looking vaguely concerned. Clint flapped his hand.

“Just barely,” he grimaced. “And it’s too early to get into the history of it all. White people ain’t shit, I know.”

This was definitely the wrong thing to say. Sam twisted around and began listing facts about the cultures, lands, and people of the country, providing dates and context for various aspects of the continent’s history, counting them off on his fingers, and Nat caught Clint’s eye in the rear view mirror and laughed at his vaguely-sleep addled expression. That was what you got for having poor history knowledge in front of a guy who was an expert.

They finally arrived at the airport and found a parking space. Clint grabbed the sign he’d made and put it under his arm. It read WELCOME BACK FROM THE SEX RETREAT! and he’d insisted on bringing it. He had a satisfied smirk on his face already.

Nat felt a burst of nerves in her chest as they walked towards arrivals, and slid her sunglasses on to hide it, even though it made her look like an asshole once they were inside. The airport was loud and busy and Nat grabbed Clint’s hand so he wouldn’t wander off and then they found a spot in the arrivals lounge where they could see the escalators and stood to wait.

“He’s got his luggage, should be fifteen minutes,” Clint said. Sam elbowed Nat.

“He’s gonna have like, a million extra bags,” he said.

“I know,” she groaned. “He knows I’ve got the truck but my god he’ll have way too much junk with him.”

“Some of it better be gifts,” Sam said. “Otherwise I’m sending him back.”

Steve had informed Nat months ago that he was having some more fragile, big and/or oddly-shaped items shipped separately, at some cost. She imagined him trying to wedge pieces of marble, stone busts, and life-sized paintings into his bags and shook her head.

Their collective excitement built as they waited. Nat gripped Clint’s hand tightly until their palms were sweaty. She looped her arm through Sam’s and did a little dance. She was nervous and excited and nostalgic. Steve was coming back and she’d missed him and there was so much to catch up on and she was so proud of him for going but was so happy he was back.

“There he is!” said Clint, lifting the sign, and they all craned their necks at the first dregs of people pouring down the escalators. “Oh, no, sorry, no,” Clint said, and they both looked at him.

“You need to get your eyes checked,” Sam told him, which was true.

They kept waiting and Clint kept looking at his phone to get updates from Steve but none came in. Five minutes became ten became fifteen became twenty and Nat was feeling anxious about everything and then—

“There!” Clint exclaimed. “For real, I see him.”

They looked and this time it wasn’t a false alarm. Coming down one of the escalators was Steve, in the flesh. Nat felt her face aching with a grin already. Clint lifted his sign. Sam was waving.

Steve descended further and further but it seemed to take forever, and he was stuck with what indeed looked like too many bags for one person and behind several other passengers who took up the whole escalator. He was clearly looking for them, and finally he spotted Clint’s sign and he laughed like he always did, tilting back a little, knees bending, face scrunching up. Nat could see him saying _for god’s sake, Clint,_ even if she couldn’t hear him yet.

Finally he reached the bottom of the escalators and unloaded three suitcases, two of which were stacked on each other, one Nat didn’t recognise. He also had a backpack and a satchel weighing him down. Behind him was a big dude grappling with his own bags.

Steve walked forward a few steps, still waving and grinning hugely. He looked good, Nat was happy to say. Tired but tanned and joyful and older but in the kind of way people did when they’d learned and experienced and _lived_.

“Hey!” he yelled across the lounge, his voice louder and carrying better than you’d expect from a guy who barely brushed 5’6”. Then he turned around because the guy behind him bumped his suitcase against his ankles, and he tripped slightly before righting himself. The guy said sorry and then laughed and Steve laughed and Nat started to think _wait a minute_ because they seemed awfully comfortable, not like strangers at all, and then the two men, Steve and the not-stranger, walked closer and closer, short, blonde, and pale with tall, dark, and scary-looking, Steve still waving like an idiot.

He abandoned his suitcases and hurried over so he could hug Sam and then Nat and Clint. Sam took a photo of him to put in the group chat and then they chattered a mile a minute, all the usual _how are you_ and _how was the flight_ and _I missed you so much_ and _it’s so good to see you_ and the not-stranger just sort of stood there a few meters away, corralling suitcases. He had a huge military-style backpack on each broad shoulder, ear-length dark hair tied back in a low bun, strands falling out around his sharp jaw, piercing grey-blue eyes, and a serious case of RBF.

“What the hell is this?” Steve asked Clint, meaning the sign, and they all laughed and Steve said _,_ pointing at Sam and Nat, _you two should have talked him out of it, I’m not a sex addict!_

“Hey, we’re not about labels,” said Clint, pleased as punch at the reaction he’d gotten. He’d already winked at several other people earlier on after they’d stared at the sign, some even taking photos.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Steve retorted, eyes shining.

“Steve,” Nat said, after he’d tugged on her blunt bob, a new haircut he’d only seen in one Facetime call. Steve looked at her, grinning after completing the complicated handshake he had with Clint, the first one for almost a year.

“Yeah?” he said, mid-laugh.

“Who’s this?” she asked, glancing at the not-stranger, who glanced at her as if both grateful he had finally been noticed but also wishing he hadn't been, and Steve sort of jolted and turned.

“Oh!” he said. He went back to the man and put his hand on his side, easy. “Guys, this is James,” he said. He beamed up at the man who smiled stiffly at them all, one square hand lifting in a wave. “Or Bucky. Both work. Buck, this is Clint, Sam, and Natasha.”

“It is good to meet you all,” said James. His strongly-accented voice was deep too but it matched how he looked. It fell out of him all gravelly and low and made total sense.

There was a beat where they all stood there. Nat glanced at the others. Clint’s mouth had actually dropped open. Sam looked like he was trying to figure out a math problem. Steve’s smile spasmed briefly.

Under his breath, Clint said _witness protection_ and then, louder and with utter sincerity, said “Steve, is there a threat upon your life? Is he your bodyguard?”

“What?” Steve said, blinking. Then he laughed. “No?”

James adjusted one beefy arm around a bag and cleared his throat. Nat spied a tattoo just beyond the cuff of his sleeve.

“James is my boyfriend,” Steve explained. Nat wondered if maybe this was a prank.

“You have a _boyfriend_?” she asked. “And this is the first time we’re hearing about it? The first time _I’m_ hearing about it?”

Steve’s mouth opened and closed. “Uh, right, yes,” he said, looking shifty. “I—I didn’t tell you. I wanted it to be a surprise. And, also, I kind of just kept leaving it? And I didn’t want to make it a big deal at the last minute?”

“Those are not good enough reasons not to tell any of us!” Nat exclaimed. She wasn’t mad exactly, but she was surprised and faintly hurt that he’d kept it from them. From her. They were best friends. He should have told her.

“How long has this been going on?” she asked.

“Five months,” Steve said. “Give or take. The first few weeks were…” He looked at James like he hung the moon. James’ expression barely changed. “… not official,” Steve finished.

“Well, this is a surprise, man, but congrats!” Sam said, the friendliest one of them all. He stuck out his hand. “Sorry, James, we’re being total weirdos.”

James shook Sam’s hand. “It is okay,” he said. “I have told Steve to tell you but… he is stubborn. He seems to think you do not mind.”

He looked at Nat then. Nat looked at him. Steve glanced between them.

“Buck, this is Nat. We’ve known each other forever.”

James offered his hand. Nat took it. He had a firm shake, a cool touch.

“Steve has told me much about you,” he said. “I’m glad finally to see you in person.”

Nat took a breath. “Nice to meet you, James.”

Clint stuck out his hand next.

“Dude, honestly, we’re just surprised Steve managed to get a boyfriend, let alone drag him back to the States, let alone one who looks as good as you do.”

James chuckled at this, and Clint, unashamed, took in his arms. “Seriously, what do you bench? Are there different exercises wherever you’re from? Are you eating something? Steroids? I’ve never been able to look like that. Even Sam can’t get that big.”

“Hey, man,” Sam said, from under the bus Clint had thrown him under.

“Bro, look at him,” Clint said, from the driver’s seat of said bus. “I’m intimidated. He looks like a supermodel. Or like someone from Game of Thrones.” Then, to James, and in the same breath, “Have you seen Game of Thrones? What did you think of the last season?”

James’ mouth opened and he made an _uhh_ sound but Sam quickly reoriented the conversation, saying, “I have to ask how Steve managed to convince you to come with him—I know from experience he can get people to do things and they don’t even realise they’re doing it until it’s too late… but this is a major move.”

James exhaled, eyebrows fluttering up his forehead, apparently taking this in his stride. Steve looked both dismayed and ecstatic to be surrounded by the group’s utter buffoonery once again and quickly changed the subject.

“O-kay!” he said loudly, short of clapping his hands like a kindergarten teacher. “We just got here, remember? I think that’s enough prodding and questioning for the moment,” he continued. “Buck, you don’t have to listen to either of them.”

“Here, man, let me take some of your stuff,” Sam said, and Nat watched as he and Clint took some of the luggage. Steve stepped towards her, looking apologetic, and they drifted a few meters away.

“I am sorry,” he said, grimacing the way a dog did when it knew it had done something it shouldn’t. “Things happened kind of fast and I never would have expected to be bringing someone home with me.”

“That’s not what I’m really concerned about right now,” Nat said. “I just—why didn’t you tell me?”

“I kind of did. Sort of. Remember in Warsaw, we were Skyping, and you saw my ‘roommate’ in the background? He sort of waved from a distance—I didn’t actually introduce him, not really.”

“That was him?”

“Yeah.”

“Steve, that’s not the same as _telling me you have a boyfriend_! That’s like twenty pixels on a screen!”

Steve sighed, looping his arm through hers. They were only two inches apart in height. She’d missed having him close and pulled him closer.

“I just got swept up with everything,” he said. “With him, with work, with everything. And I honestly expected it to end when I left so I wanted to keep it all there, come home and tell you then when I was all depressed about never seeing him again. And then I realised I wanted him to come with me and we pretty much decided to come back together in like the space of a week and a half? I thought it would be a cool surprise. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just stupid.”

Nat furrowed her brow. By the looks of it, it seemed like Steve was just in love.

She wasn’t really hurt, not really, but this was not what she’d been expecting and even if this thing with James had ended in Europe, she’d have wanted to know because they were meant to be best friends who told each other about their personal lives. Especially when it came to a fling with a handsome European stranger.

“You should have told me,” she told him. He looked meaningfully at her.

“It was a lapse of judgement,” he said. Nat considered this briefly. Multiple times Steve had effectively vanished off the face of the earth to work on projects, even if it was bad for him. This perhaps wasn’t totally out of character.

“For five months?” Nat asked.

Steve grimace-laughed. “My bad. Please don’t be mad. I know you’re gonna like him. He’s really nice.”

“I’m sure he is,” Nat hummed. In the background, the other three had worked out how to carry the bags. “And you’re not stupid, Steve,” she added. “You just have a weird idea of what a surprise is.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Are you kidding me? I don’t believe for one second you would’ve let Clint bring that sign unless you thought it was funny as well.”

Nat scoffed. “Fine,” she said. “Fine, okay.”

Steve grinned. “Don’t hate me.”

“I don’t, Steve.”

“Good. He really is nice. And he was nervous about meeting you guys, especially you. I should have told you like he said.”

“Yeah,” Nat elbowed him. “But I guess that means he’s the one with a sense of logic, huh?”

Steve didn’t dignify her with an answer, instead glancing behind them. Clint, Sam, and James were juggling bags, talking about the flight. Nat grabbed Steve’s satchel and slung it over her shoulder.

“Should we help them?” he asked.

“No,” she said, as they made for the exit. “They can handle it.”

They got to the truck, which seemed to shrink as they got closer to it, and did some Tetris to fit all the bags into the trunk. Then Nat got into the driver’s seat and Sam called shotgun again and then the both of them had the unexpected pleasure of watching Clint, Steve, and now James get into the back.

Technically it was a three-seater, but James was very broad and Clint liked his space.

“Good god,” Sam said, as if he was witnessing something he’d never forget. Nat laughed at the sight of Clint’s eyes progressively widening as Steve told him to _budge up more_ until James finally managed to get in and shut the door too.

“Are we all in?” Nat said, starting the engine. Steve laughed at the absurdity of the situation, and then Nat did, and then Sam, and then even James.

“Yes ma’am,” Steve said.

“Seatbelts on?”

“Doesn’t matter if we do,” Clint muttered. “Not gonna move even if we flip at sixty.”

Conversation flowed rapidly as they headed out of the airport complex and headed for the highway, but the newcomer was near-silent, gazing through the window. Eventually Sam asked James about his experiences in the States to get him involved, and then they were just talking about the random shit they saw. The malls, the fast-food joints, the buildings, the river, the people, the pockets of greenery. James had visited New York once as a child, but he’d never been anywhere else.

Nat glanced in the rear view mirror to the three people squashed into the back. Steve was shortest and slightest, which mean he’d obviously had to go in the middle, though he wasn’t much of a buffer between Clint and James. He looked pretty damn comfortable wedged in between the two of them, talking animatedly with Sam and Clint with that dumb smile on his face he always had when he was a little wired and a little tired.

Nat tried not to eyeball James but she couldn’t help it. He was just so… _present_. That was the only way she could describe it. He looked scary, tough, like he’d seen a lot. Steve was no angel, but he looked positively sunny next to his stormy boyfriend.

 _Steve’s boyfriend_. The phrase felt odd in her head. _Steve’s boyfriend, who he’d had for five months, give or take, who he’d told her nothing about for some reason, who was now just coming to Angie’s with them like it was no big deal, who was talking about history with Sam, undoubtedly winning him over already._

He caught her eye in the mirror at one point, and she held his gaze until he dipped his head slightly and looked away. If he was going to be scary, she’d be equally as so.

Something was off, and she couldn’t yet place it. Maybe it was just because he was an utter stranger who’d appeared already completely embedded in Steve’s life. Or maybe it was something else entirely. Nat just didn’t know.

They reached Angie’s after only getting caught in a little traffic. They’d talked about the flight, the airport, the city, the weather, a few titbits from Europe, plus a few updates from Nat, Clint, and Sam respectively. James hadn’t said much at all.

“I missed this place,” Steve said. He slung his arm around Nat’s shoulders as they walked into the diner, Clint and James walking ahead with that awkward distance between them that strangers trying to get to know each other had, getting caught at the door with exchanges of _after you, no, after you_ until Sam shoved his way through.

Inside, they went for their usual four-person booth, and Sam dragged a chair over from a free table and sat at the end. Nat sat next to Clint, opposite Steve and then James next to him. Steve picked up the menu and gazed at it like it was a piece of art in itself, and when the waitress came over to get them drinks, he ordered a mimosa with verve.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he said. “Natasha, I haven’t found a single good mimosa in Europe.”

Nat rolled her eyes and then realised he was probably right. Angie’s mimosas were somehow better than all others.

The rest of the table ordered, Clint asking for a virgin mimosa and then a mug of coffee, and when it got to James, he just asked for coffee as well.

“Have a drink,” said Clint. “It’s a tradition, you gotta!”

“I don’t usually drink,” James said. He peered at the drinks menu, eyes narrowed. Steve leaned in, pointed.

“That’s got barely anything in it,” he said. “But you don’t have to, Buck.”

James ordered a weak beer and while they waited for the drinks they looked at the food.

“James, are you a breakfast kind of person? Do they even have brunch in Europe?” Clint asked, brow furrowing.

“I like breakfast, and we do have brunch,” James said, amused. Steve pulled a face.

“Clint, brunch is not an American thing.”

“I like pancakes,” said James. “Steve said they are good here.”

“He is utterly correct,” Clint said. “I know our version of things is gonna be a shitshow but just roll with it, alright? Don’t be offended if you think we’ve bastardised your culture.”

James gave a wry smile. “Ah, I do not think they will serve the food I grew up with.” He peered down the menu. “No, I do not see cabbage on here.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“You don’t even like cabbage,” he said. James smirked at him.

“I grew up eating it. It does not matter if I like it.”

The waitress returned with the drinks, passing them around, and then took their meal orders. Steve complained that he was starving and ordered enough to feed a horse and then said that he had Clint and now James to help him out if he couldn’t finish it all.

“Hollow legs, both of you,” he muttered.

“Let’s toast,” Nat said when the waitress was gone, because, damn it, she’d been unable to properly welcome Steve back yet. It wasn’t like she had a plan for brunch or anything but somehow it seemed derailed anyway.

She lifted her mimosa. Everyone else lifted their respective beverage.

“To Steve,” she said, smiling at him. “Who we are so happy was able to go to Europe and follow his dreams and grow and do what he so deserved, but who we are also so glad is back.”

“Here, here!” Clint said.

“We missed you, buddy,” Sam said. “Wasn’t the same without you.”

“I missed you all too,” Steve said, looking a little weepy even before he’d had anything to drink. “I am glad to be back with you guys, you have no idea.” A beat passed and then he added, “And a toast to Bucky, who might just be the kindest, bravest guy I know.”

“Or the most foolish,” James said, eyes widening, and then their glasses and mugs were clinking and James said something quiet, some form of cheers Nat couldn’t hear, and then everyone took a sip and Steve said _thank god_ and swallowed another gulp.

The food didn’t take long, another twenty minutes, and though conversation flowed since Steve had a lot of questions to answer about his trip, it was slightly awkward. Nat scrolled through the group chat at first, which was filled with messages from the extended group beyond the so-called ‘inner circle’ of Steve’s closest friends. The photo Sam had sent over of Steve walking towards them in the airport had been met with a variety of replies, all equally as excited to have Steve back from his big trip, everyone eager to see him in person.

Before long, Nat forced herself to get involved in the immediate moment, setting aside her phone, though she kept looking at James, gauging his reactions, seeing how he held himself around what was a group of friends so close they were basically family.

He seemed fairly relaxed for someone in a new country surrounded by strangers he’d only been told about from afar, leaning back in his seat and occasionally but unenthusiastically sipping his beer. He had slung one arm over the back of Steve’s seat, not touching him, but familiar. It was what Clint did to Nat, except he was currently double-fisting black coffee and looking around for the waitress to return.

James was quiet, too. That was to be expected but Nat thought it wasn’t just shyness. It was like he was holding something back. She squinted at his bulk, saw pink, scarred skin on his knuckles. What looked like an old scar through his eyebrow. She watched him lean into Steve and say something under his breath to him that made Steve’s smile slip slightly before he nodded and patted James’ arm.

Maybe she was reading too deep into someone she’d known for less than an hour, or perhaps she was taking what he looked like on the outside for gospel. She of all people knew not to judge a book by its cover. But still. He seemed settled in himself but also restless and intense.

He offered Steve his beer to try and Steve bemoaned how disgusting beer was before he even tried it and went right back to his mimosa.

“Another?” he said to Nat, already standing to go to the counter.

“Another two, please,” she said as he gathered up their glasses. A moment after he was gone, the waitress appeared with their food. They quickly made room at the table, James taking Steve’s phone and zipping it into the jacket he’d slung over his empty chair, pushing his beer further into the middle.

“This is the dairy-free version, yes?” he asked when the waitress set down Steve’s plate. He’d ordered the vegan option of what Clint had also asked for.

“Yes sir,” said the waitress, and James nodded, thanking her. He shifted in his chair and smiled at Nat.

“Yours looks good,” he said conversationally.

“Omelettes are underrated,” she shrugged.

“Mimosas!” Steve announced, carrying them on a tray, and James took it from him so he could sit without spilling them.

They began to eat, and conversation shifted to centre on the food.

“I mean, it’s not as good as the croissants we had in Paris,” Steve said, and Sam scoffed.

“If you’re going to compare everything to Europe, I’m going to leave,” he said, and Steve grinned, a menace.

“James, how do you like the US so far?” Sam asked ten minutes later.

“So far is just like they tell me it will be. Bright and loud and big. Even the cars and roads are big.”

“I don’t know if you didn’t realise but I was still pretty squished in the truck, so clearly it’s not that big,” Clint pointed at him.

“I cannot apologise,” James said. “You must blame Steve.”

“That’s what we usually do,” Sam broke in. “Glad you’re on the same page, dude.”

They finished eating and then Nat decided that she couldn’t remain standoffish, she had to make an effort with this strange man who Steve was enamoured with.

“So, James,” she began, and his smile flattened slightly at the sound of her voice. “Where are you from?”

“Wait, let us guess,” Sam said.

“Nat’s Russian,” Steve said. He had a flushed look to him and he’d only had three mimosas on top of a lot of carbs. He peered at her. “You’re not allowed to guess because you’ll guess too quickly.”

Nat lifted her hands. “Fine,” she said. “I think I already know anyway.”

Truth be told, she didn’t. She had inklings. Definitely Eastern European. She wasn’t getting Russian but his accent sounded like he could be Russian, Ukrainian, Serbian, something like that. He looked the part too, like he’d be right at home stood in waist-deep snow. So she just stayed quiet and let Sam and Clint fire countries at him.

“Okay, so, Eastern, I’m gonna go ahead with that,” Sam began, scrutinising James, who had sat more upright at the attention. Steve leaned into him, grinning.

“How many languages do you speak?” Clint asked.

“Five officially,” James said. Nat had to admit she was impressed. “Plus two that I can get by with if the locals are nice.”

“He’s being modest,” Steve broke in. “I’ve yet to see him in a country where he can’t talk to someone.”

“That is because so many people speak English,” James reminded him, and Steve waved his hand.

“Shit, _seven_?” Sam said, looking dismayed. “Are you a spy? Natasha, do _you_ even know that many?”

“I know as many as I need you to think I know,” she quipped. “Which languages, James?”

“If I tell you, you will know the answer,” James said. “I can tell you that I speak English and German and a little bit of Spanish and Mandarin but I am not from these countries.”

“Okay, so definitely eastern Europe,” Clint said. He had his phone out, not even subtly hiding the fact that he had a map of the continent up.

“Russia?” Sam asked.

“ _Nyet_ ,” James replied.

“But you speak it, okay,” Sam said. “Uhh… Ukraine?”

“ _Nemaye_.”

Clint just began listing countries from the map. “Poland, Slovakia, Belarus, Black Sea—no, wait, not a country—Romania, Bulgaria… I thought Lithuania was in Africa?”

“Good god,” Sam said, gaping at him. Sam also had a wide knowledge of the world’s countries, and where they were located.

“Did I get it?” Clint ignored him. James nodded, smiling.

“Romania,” he said. “Born and raised.”

“Nat, did you guess that?” Steve asked.

“I’ll never tell,” she said into her mimosa.

“Okay, so you speak English, German, Spanish, Mandarin, Russian and Romanian, I hate you already, and what else?” Sam asked.

“Just Ukrainian.”

“‘Just Ukrainian’,” Steve mimicked. “He knows tonnes. I speak English and enough French that I don’t get booed out of a coffee shop. He’s just being modest.”

“It is not like all of them were my choice to learn,” James said coolly. Steve pulled a face. James spoke to the whole table. “Steve did get booed out of a coffee shop in Lyon,” he explained, and then they all had a laugh at his explanation of what had happened, which involved a baguette, a bike helmet, and a table cloth, and ended with Steve grumpily sipping his drink and Clint ugly-laughing. Nat grinned as well.

“I will be right back,” James said, standing and grabbing his jacket. He edged out of the booth and left Angie’s, and Nat spied him walking to the side of the building through the windows and starting a phone call. When he came back in, he murmured to Steve again, before joining back in with the others.

Nat wanted to ask what James did, how he and Steve had met if James was in Romania and Steve was flitting from one country to another, sometimes only staying in one for a few days at a time, but all of them except him and Clint were getting a little sloshed and Steve looked exhausted and even Nat knew, despite how much she wanted to spend hours and hours sat here catching up with Steve, that it was time to go, time to get the two new arrivals to where they belonged. They would be seeing each other in a few days after all, and Nat was already planning to go to Steve’s place before then anyway.

So she saved the questions, plus the million other she had, for later, and Clint went and got the bill and they split the total. Then Steve got up and headed for the bathroom for Sam. Nat shook her head at him. He was still a complete and utter lightweight. Europe had done nothing to change that.

There was about thirty seconds of silence between the remaining three. Clint was doing that anxious thing he did when he was around people he was intimidated by. He had been telling the truth at the airport and despite the easy, if vaguely awkward, chatter over brunch, he clearly didn’t know how to be around James. Nat was glad it wasn’t just her that felt like she couldn’t get a read on him.

“How’d you like us so far?” Clint finally asked. Nat put her hand on his thigh and squeezed, tipping her head to the side a little as if to recalibrate the slight drunken haze in her mind.

“Excuse me?” James said.

“I mean, Steve must’ve told you about us and stuff. But what do you think about us? Do we seem like friends Steve would have?”

James seemed surprised by the question, mulling over his words. His expression became concentrated, brows pulling together, which probably didn’t make Clint feel any less chill.

“Steve did talk about you. Very much. I am sorry he did not do the same about me.” He looked briefly at Nat when he said this. She lifted her chin. “But he always talked and I can tell even back then that he cares about you very much. I can see why he is friends with you. You have been nice to me even when I have interrupted your brunch.”

Sam caught the end of his little speech. Steve had gone to the counter and was talking to the waitress who had served them.

“No, no, you didn’t,” Sam said. “Are they bullying you, James?”

“No,” James shook his head. He frowned somehow deeper than he already had. “It is like meeting his parents,” he finally said, with such frankness that Nat couldn’t help but smirk before schooling her expression into something more assessing.

“Oh,” said Clint, foot halfway in his mouth. “You, uh, he’s told you they’re both dead, right?”

James exhaled. “Yes,” he said. Sam tipped his head back and laughed loudly. From the counter, Steve shot them a look and then specifically looked at Nat as if to say _what are you doing to him_?

“I only mean that it was nervous— _I_ was nervous, I mean, to meet you all,” James continued. “Steve always talked. The stories… I will need to ask if they’re all true. He calls you his family. So it was like meeting parents. If his parents are two men and a lady.”

“It’s funny you say that, actually,” Sam said. “On the way to the airport me and Nat were talking about how Steve is like our child. We missed him a lot.”

James nodded. “I know he did. He was ready to come home and see you all.”

“Stop bullying my boyfriend,” Steve jumped in, jostling James, who put a steadying hand on the small of Steve’s back. “Now come on, I am going to fall asleep right here if we don’t get a move on.”

They grabbed their things, thanked the waitress, and then bustled out into the sun. In the lot, Steve tugged at James’ hand and pulled him over to the grassy verge to point at something further down the street. When Steve took a few steps back and gestured hugely, James grabbed the edge of his jacket and pulled him forward again, looking down at him with an unreadable expression.

At the car, Nat watched them along with Clint and Sam.

“What do you think?” she asked lowly.

“He seems alright,” said Sam. “Kind of quiet.”

Clint’s eyes were narrowed. “He’s definitely a spy or something. Or special ops. No way do you just know that many languages.”

“Nat?” Sam asked. “You’re been awfully quiet this whole time.”

Nat shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know. He just seems intense.”

“You’re concerned, aren’t you?” Sam said. They were all looking at Steve and James now. Nat felt a sudden pang of tension in her chest. If this dude hurt Steve—she’d chase him back to wherever he came from and make him pay.

“I just don’t feel totally sure about him,” she said carefully, because it made her sound like an asshole, but she always trusted her gut, and something wasn’t adding up. James surely wasn’t a spy, but almost certainly military. And aside from that, he just seemed so different to Steve. Of course, it had been three hours. She barely knew him. Maybe their exterior differences hid a deeper interior connection.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Sam mused. The two figures in question were walking back now. “Our Steve certainly seems enamoured.”

They got in the car to leave. Clint finally got to sit in the front, though only because he was the only one fit to drive. He dropped Sam off first, and they all waved until he was inside his building. Steve and James shifted over into the proper seats before they moved along but Steve kept putting his hand on James’ arm, his hand, his thigh, his shoulder.

“It’s nice not seeing your ugly mug in the mirror,” Clint said to Steve as they sped down the street, and Steve pulled a face.

Clint dropped him and James off at their apartment next. Steve leaned on his toes through the window to kiss Nat on the cheek.

“Thanks for picking us up,” he said. He was clearly a little drunk, and Nat was glad he had a sober person to look after him. Mimosas paired with some serious jet-lag… that was going to be a lot.

“Of course,” Nat said. She wanted to squeeze him until he popped. She patted his cheek. “I missed you, Steve-o. Welcome back.”

“I missed you too,” he said, smiling at her all heartfelt. “I’ll see you soon, alright? We’ll go for a coffee date, just the two of us.”

“I’d like that,” Nat said, smiling at him. He grinned and went around the car to talk to Clint.

Nat peered at James through her sunglasses, who was shifting the suitcases towards the steps at the base of Steve’s building. She waited until he turned around to say, “Look after my best friend, alright?”

“I will,” he said, his expression utterly serious. “It was nice to meet you at last, both of you.” He leaned slightly to see Clint, who saluted lazily from behind the wheel.

He and Nat sat and watched the other two disappear into the building, suitcases dragged behind them. Nat released a breath. She hadn’t realised how tight her chest had been since this morning, how it had somehow wound tighter upon James’ appearance.

“What if this is the last time we see Steve alive?” Clint said unhelpfully, and Nat shot him a look. He pulled away, and she watched the apartment building receding in the wing mirror. He’d voiced her concerns perfectly.

“Hey,” he said after ten minutes or so, when she’d been quiet and contemplative. “I’m sure he’ll be okay, Tasha. I trust Steve’s judgement and they both looked pretty into each other. I didn’t get _major_ serial killer vibes from James. I mean, he was scary-looking…” he trailed off, shook his head, then said, “I was kidding, you know that right?”

“Yeah,” Nat said. Clint reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Yeah, I know,” she said. The mimosas were swimming around in her bloodstream, making her more irrational than she would like to think she was capable of being. “I just care about him. And I missed him.”

She was a little horrified that her voice wobbled. At a stop light, Clint reached for her sunglasses, sliding them off her head, and thumbed at the wet beneath her eyes.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But he’s back now. He’s obviously in love for a reason. We just need to give it time. We don’t even know this dude.”

He pulled away as the light changed. _Neither does Steve_ , Nat wanted to say.

“Since when did you get so wise?” she asked instead, and Clint pulled a face.

“I’m Clint the Wise, smartest guy in this car,” he said, and then he thumped his fist against his chest and chanted like a dudebro and Nat couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Yeah, you’re also the dumbest,” she said, and he grinned at her, toothy.

“As a brick babe. As a brick.”

By the time they reached their apartment, Steve had flooded their group chat with messages and photos.

 **Steve:** _thank you!!!!! oh my god you guys are the best THANK YOU!_

 **Steve:** _I HAD NO IDEA_

 **Steve:** _you’re the best._

The attached photos were of the banner, lights, and balloon. Then, obviously taken by James, Steve stood beneath them, smiling widely. Nat smiled back.

 **Natasha:** _welcome home, steve-o. it was the least we could do._

 **Clint:** _I got the balloon_

 **Sam:** _but me and Nat put everything up and cleaned the apartment so…_

 **Wanda:** _Steve! Welcome back, can’t wait to see you :D_

 **Clint:** _what is ur problem WILSON???_

 **Clint:** _@Riley sort him out please_

 **Steve:** _can’t wait to see you either Wanda :DDD_

 **Steve:** _guys stop fighting seriously I’m so grateful._

 **Steve:** _hope everyone can make it on Friday!_

 **Sam:** _I’m bringing mac and cheese ONLY_

 **Nat:** _I asked you to bring dip >:(_

She opened up their private chat.

 **Nat:** _how r u and James getting on?_

 **Steve:** _pretty good. Probably won’t get properly unpacked for three months tho_

 **Steve:** _bucky likes the place which is good. It’s not prague but it’ll do he said._

 **Nat:** _okay. Keep me updated alright?_

 **Steve:** _of course. thanks again for picking us up. And for the decorations. I’ll facetime u tomorrow. Love u lots_

Nat wouldn’t admit out loud that the texts both settled her and riled her up. For the rest of the day she felt restless, unable to sit down and relax. Around 3pm Clint convinced her to come and walk Lucky with him, and that helped, being in the city park with a Labrador and the human equivalent, in the sun.

Still, she just kept thinking about Steve going around Europe with a stranger, and then bringing him home, and then being alone with him. She was being stupid, surely, overly suspicious as always. But she didn’t like people she couldn’t read, because she knew how to read _everyone_. A few hours wasn’t enough time to know someone, sure, but neither was five months.

If James had some kind of sinister motives, surely he would have already acted upon them. Why come all this way and then strike? She trusted Steve’s judgement, truly, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still worry.

The next day, Clint was at work and Nat was ignoring work emails because it was the weekend, damn it, and she waited for Steve to fulfil his facetime promise. Around 11:30 he popped up.

 **Steve:** _you free?_

 **Nat:** _yes_

The call request bubbled into view, and she accepted straight away, flopping down on her belly and holding the phone in one hand and resting her chin in the other. The line connected a moment later. Steve was moving around in his apartment, walking from the balcony towards the kitchen.

“Hey,” he said, smiling at her. He was in a baggy shirt and his hair was an absolute mess. “Feels like I’m still in Europe, almost, facetiming you again. Weird knowing you’re only a few miles away this time.”

“How is it being back?” Nat asked. She scanned the background as Steve and his phone moved around, but she couldn’t see James.

“Weird but good,” Steve replied. “Like, everything is where I left it. Kate left some stuff behind including this tiny whisk—” he held up the item which truly was ridiculously small, “—and I don’t know what she used it for but I’ve used it to stir coffee? I don’t know if it’s actually making a difference though. Maybe it’s aerating it? I don’t know.”

Nat smiled. It really was like he was still abroad. Steve was definitely a rambler on these calls.

“You said James likes the place?” she asked.

“Uh-huh. He’s on the balcony right now.”

“Sorry D.C. doesn’t have as much history as Prague.”

Steve laughed, the sound tinny. “It’s hard to beat, to be honest. You got a hangover?”

“Feeling fresh as a daisy,” Nat said. “You look tired.”

“I am. We had a long day yesterday,” Steve groaned. Nat was going to have to get used to _we_. He propped his phone up on something, probably the handle of one of his kitchen cabinets, and ducked in and out of frame as he made a late breakfast. “I hate travelling.”

“You hate flying, you love traveling.”

“Okay, yeah.”

“What’re your plans for the next few days? You know Darcy, Thor, _and_ Jane are gonna be here for Friday?”

“Pigs must be flying,” Steve said. “I’d say I’m surprised but of course they’d want to see me.” He flipped his too-short hair. “As for the next few days, I think we’re just gonna chill for a bit. I woke up at three a.m. and couldn’t get to sleep until five so that was fun. Feeling a bit dead at the moment. I’m gonna give Buck a tour of D.C. Nothing crazy. He’s still sorting out some of his papers and stuff.”

Nat nodded. “Has he said anything about us?” she asked. She was curious. The man had appeared out of nowhere, an enigma to them all, but Steve had apparently told him plenty about them already. Nat felt unbalanced, at a disadvantage.

“He liked you all,” Steve said earnestly, leaning too close to the camera and waving a spatula. “Honest, Nat, he did. He thinks Sam is cute. Says Clint has a great sense of humour so, like, don’t pass that information on.”

“Wouldn’t dare,” Nat broke in. Steve vanished back out of frame. There was the sound of frying. “You making eggs?”

“Scrambled on toast,” Steve informed her.

“Did he say anything about me?”

“You worried you made a bad impression?” Steve asked. He was smiling, but there was a slight edge to his tone. Nat wasn’t surprised. She had been more than a little hostile yesterday, because she had felt like the rug had been ripped out underneath her. Still did. In the moment she’d been aware that it had been noticeable, and while she didn’t want to come across as an asshole when she was meant to be Steve’s longest friend, she’d been unable to snap out of it.

“He said you seemed nice,” Steve said, breaking her out of her head. He was plating up food now, giving her a great view of his forehead.

“That’s it?” Nat asked. “ _Nice_ seems like code for stone-cold bitch.”

“Hey, I know I kind of dumped it on you, and I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to missile you. But he said you seemed nice and that he could see why we were friends. Don’t think too much about it—you’ve literally known each other for what, four hours total? I’d be surprised if you weren’t a little unsure.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “I suppose he must be a good guy if you brought him back with you.”

“Or he’s got something seriously wrong with him. Jury’s still out on that.”

He kept talking and Nat saw movement in the background. A flickering of sunlight as someone walked in from the balcony, and then James appeared the in living room, just barely visible from Nat’s angle. He was bent over picking something up and then ducked out of view, into what Nat thought was the little hallway leading to Steve’s bedroom—or, now, Steve and James’ bedroom, she figured.

“Alright, I’m gonna go so we can eat, unless you wanna join us?” Steve said.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Nat replied. Steve rolled his eyes.

“You’re the worst,” he said, and then he winked. “Have a good day, Nat.”

“You too, Steve. Say hi to James for me.”

Steve assured her he would and then ended the call. Nat let the phone fall flat. He looked happy, still. Domestic. Nat looked at Lucky, who was lying on her back in the sun, and sighed.

“Am I jealous?” she asked the dog, who blinked lazily at her. Nat nodded slowly. That was probably what was happening here. Steve had someone for himself, now, which meant she wouldn’t get as much of him. Worse, that someone was a person he’d told her nothing about for a still-unclear reason.

Nat scrubbed her face with her hands. This was dumb. Childish. So she went to her computer and answered some emails, because that was the adult thing to do, and let the mundanity of it distract her.

Nat gave them a few days. A honeymoon period, or whatever. She texted Steve but didn’t facetime, and he told her that they were just taking it easy, getting some sleep, settling in, getting James’ paperwork sorted out. He was alive, at least. Nat figured it wasn’t James faking replies.

She looked at herself in the mirror one evening as she applied toner, stopped, and squinted at her reflection. “You’re acting like the crazy person here,” she told herself. “James isn’t a psychopath.”

She’d like to think Steve would be able to pick someone who wasn’t, after all. They’d both watched enough true crime that she considered them both pretty apt at detecting them.

So she went to work and did chores and walked Lucky with Clint and Clint brought her home a slightly sad bouquet of flowers with the price sticker (three dollars off!!!) still stuck to the side. She put them in a vase and Clint beamed every time he saw them. Nat made a mental note to buy _him_ flowers.

Finally, she texted Steve to say she was in the neighbourhood.

 **Me:** _can I come over? I can’t stay for long but I want to see how you’re getting on :)_

She felt needy just typing it. Steve could tell, obviously.

 **Steve:** _checking im still alive? come on up, bucky will let u in ;)_

She walked down the block to Steve’s building, climbed the steps, and pressed the call button. After a minute, a deep voice answered.

“Hello?”

“James? It’s Natalia.”

A shuffle. “Yes, Steve said you would come here,” James said, and then there was a buzz and Nat pushed the door open and went for the stairs. At the apartment door she knocked and again James was the one to answer.

“Hi,” she said. He stepped back to let her in.

“Hi,” he replied. “How are you?”

“I’m just fine,” she said, pushing her sunglasses on top of her head. “How’s the jet lag?”

James shut the door and then scuffed his hand over his jaw. He’d grown a decent amount of facial hair in the few days she’d last seen him and was in a grey hoodie, a pair of sweatpants, and some sliders. On the little two-person table were endless documents and a set of passports. James began gathering them up, sliding some pieces out of sight.

“Ah, it is fine,” he said. “I travelled a lot with Steve in Europe so I am a little prepared. But we were awake at 3 am over the weekend.” He cleared his throat, went towards the kitchen, poking at the welcome home balloon which was gently swaying in the breeze coming through the balcony door. “Thank you for this,” he said. “It is very kind.”

“Of course,” Nat shrugged. “I only wish I’d know you were coming. I would have got one for you as well.” James laughed on a soft exhale. Nat put her things down on the kitchen counter. She had been in this apartment a million times but this was the first time that it didn’t feel entirely familiar. This was someone else’s home, now. It wasn’t just Steve anymore.

“Would you like some coffee? Or tea?” James asked.

“Tea, please,” Nat said. She glanced around. The apartment was quiet. She looked back at James, who was searching through the cabinets. “Far left, second shelf,” she told him, and he quickly located it.

“Thanks,” he said. “I am still becoming used to everything. Steve is not organised.”

“No,” Nat said, biting down on her bottom lip to stop a smirk. She leaned against the counter as the kettle began to boil. “No, he’s not.”

They stood quietly for a moment. James prepared three mugs. Nat eyed him. Even in his slouchy clothes he was big, broad-shouldered. She saw a hoop in his left earlobe that she was pretty sure wasn’t there at the diner.

“So,” she said. “Where is Steve?”

“He went to pick up some more milk,” James said. “We’re almost out.”

“When did he leave?” Nat asked, already opening her text conversation with the man in question.

James looked mildly confused but answered after glancing at the clock on the wall. “Maybe ten or fifteen minutes ago,” he said. Nat nodded. That was just as she was walking down the street. He must have slipped out just before she would have seen him.

“He’s deliberately trying to put us together,” she said. “Forcing us to interact.”

James looked at her with an expression that read _duh_. It almost made her laugh. Almost.

“He is worried we will not like each other,” he said lightly. He slid Nat her tea and turned his back on her. The spoon clinked against the other two mugs. Nat waited for him to say more but he didn’t. She sipped the tea even though it was too hot and set the mug back down.

She switched to Romanian. Hers wasn’t native fluency but she could understand it perfectly and she wanted optimal speed and dexterity, just to ensure nothing was lost in translation.

“ _What are you doing here? Actually?”_ she asked, squinting. He turned his ridiculously broad shoulders and the rest of his body followed, and he lifted his eyebrows at her.

“ _I’m here for Steve,”_ he said, and though she didn’t detect a lie in his tone, it didn’t mean he was telling the truth. His eyebrow quirked. “ _I’m not after a green card. I’m not going to hurt him. I don’t have any ulterior motives or anything. I’m here for him._ ”

Nat faltered slightly. He’d read her perfectly. Seen through her in a way that made her feel vaguely disorientated. No matter how briefly, all these thoughts and possibilities had skipped through her head. She was a bad person and he knew it.

“ _I don’t mean to make you feel unwelcome,”_ she said with difficulty. “ _I know how hard it can be to move to a foreign country. I just—have my reservations. And Steve is my best friend. I don’t want him to get hurt.”_

James nodded, weighing up her words.

“ _I can’t say I didn’t expect it. I understand what it might look like, given that we’ve only really known each other for… six months now. I know that. But I’d never do anything to hurt Steve, or drive a wedge between him and his friends. I’m here because I want to be wherever Steve is. I’d follow him to the end of the earth.”_

He kind of looked embarrassed immediately after saying it, and somehow that was what made Nat soften slightly.

“ _Okay_ ,” she said quietly. _“Just wanted to be sure_.”

James smiled a little. _“Steve said you were protective—I respect you for it.”_ He stood up taller, lifted his chin. “ _I would probably be more concerned about your intentions if you weren’t even slightly worried. Not just you, all his friends. He has so many and I’ve accepted that I’ll have to do a lot of reassuring and proving myself, to all of you. But that’s why you’re his friends.”_

Nat nodded. Okay.

“ _Plus, he is not the only one risking a lot to have me here. I know we’ve moved fast. I’m putting a lot on the line to come with him and if things don’t work out—not that I ever intend for that—but if things don’t work out… it won’t be good.”_ He stopped, clearing his throat, like the very idea of going back to Europe had made it hard to speak. “ _If I appear to be… aggressive. Steve used to say that I look aggressive to people who don’t know me. I don’t mean to be. And now I am just hesitant. And protective_.”

Nat exhaled. Protective over Steve Rogers? She knew the feeling well.

 _“What did he say about us?”_ she asked.

 _“That you were scary, Clint was a ‘himbo’—”_ his accent jumped harshly around the foreign word and Nat snorted. _“—and that Sam was the nicest person in the world.”_ He stopped, frowned. “ _I’m afraid I can’t remember everything else. He told me that Jane is an astrophysicist? And I think he said that Riley—”_

_“Sam’s husband.”_

_“Yeah, he said he is a veteran?”_

_“You’re right so far,”_ Nat said. “ _You’ll get to meet everyone else soon enough. Don’t worry, they’re nicer than I am.”_

James dipped his head slightly this time. “ _I think you’re nice, Natalia. And I think we’re more alike than you think. Steve is worried for all the wrong reasons.”_

The apartment door opened halfway through his sentence, and Steve waltzed in.

“I can hear my name!” he called over. “Stop talking about me!”

“ _Everything’s about him,”_ James muttered under his breath, heavy on the sarcasm, and Nat laughed into her tea. “We’re fighting over you!” he added in English, raising his voice. “You will be happy about this!”

Steve rounded the corner and stopped, eyeing them both. Then he dumped his cloth grocery bag on the counter and pointed at Nat.

“I expected better,” he said. Then he put his hands in the air. “Why even speak in another language? I’m not even here!”

“ _I’ve had to deal with this since we were eight_ ,” Nat threw to James, and then, to Steve, “Because it’s fun, Steve! Get over yourself.”

Steve took the tea James held out to him. He took a bracing sip and sighed, head briefly tilting so his forehead touched the top of James’ upper arm, just before the shoulder.

“I miss European tea,” he said, looking over at Nat. “You have no idea how much better it is.”

“In general?”

“Even the Starbucks is better.”

Nat lifted her eyebrows. “You’re always welcome to go back,” she said. James had started unpacking the bag of groceries Steve had brought back with him.

“Move,” he said lowly, and Steve crossed the narrow kitchen space to stand next to Nat.

“As if you could stand to see me leave,” he told her, grinning. Nat felt warmth spark in her chest. Wasn’t that the truth? The thought of watching Steve pack up and leave for good—it was an upsetting concept.

“There’s no Angie’s in Europe,” she reminded him, and he mock-gasped.

“You’re right. Sorry, Buck, you’re stuck here for the foreseeable future.”

James, foot wedged under the door of the fridge to stop it swinging wider open, didn’t even turn around. “I couldn’t afford the plane ticket back,” he said instead, and Steve rolled his eyes and kicked him right in the ass cheek. James turned and flung a bag of lettuce at him. Nat drained her tea and grabbed her things.

“You know what?” she said. “I don’t need to hang out with you any longer.” Steve protested with an indignant _hey!_ but she was already heading for the door. She looked back at James. “Good luck with that. Thanks for talking to me.”

“Anytime,” James said. He raised his hand in a dorky wave. “ _Steve snores like a chainsaw_ ,” he told her, and Nat tilted her head back and barked out a laugh and shut the apartment door just as Steve bellowed _stop talking about me, I’m right here!_ and James grabbed him by the waist.

In the corridor, she blew out a breath. Okay. So Steve was alive and well. James seemed legit. She had been wrong. Everything was going to be just fine.

Friday was the date of the big ‘welcome Steve home and meet his boyfriend’ gathering. It was being held at Nat and Clint’s place simply because they had a yard with a fire pit and because while the weather was nice, they had to take advantage of it. Clint was also desperate to grill something like the middle-aged dad he truly was.

At four p.m., Wanda swung by to help with food. She was a foodie and liked grilling things just as much as Clint, as long as they were vegetarian. Nat held back and let her verbally attack her boyfriend over the importance of separating the meat and veggie items.

The house soon smelled like prepared foods of all kinds. Nat had a playlist going that would surely be hijacked by Riley and Sam at some point as they liked an equal mix of Turkish rap and very specific musicals. She had also dusted off every deckchair they owned and swept the patio and made sure the lanterns weren’t faulty and generally made sure it was a nice spot for her friends to be in.

Shortly before five, Darcy, Thor, and Jane arrived. Thor’s booming voice was like a damn bullhorn, and Darcy carried multiple bottles of wine. Jane avoided the kitchen after promptly placing numerous bags of snack items onto the counter and instead went outside with Nat and Clint to poke at the fire pit. A little while after that, Riley and Sam joined the pack and promptly got themselves situated outside with beers and within reaching distance of the snack table.

Fifteen minutes later, Steve and James made an appearance, to great applause, chatter, and laughter. Nat hung back with Clint, organising all the food and drinks their guests had provided so she could smile at Steve smiling. There was plenty of hugging and repeated exclamations of _welcome back!_ and _we missed you!_ and the joy of being reunited was infectious. Lucky ran around, tail wagging furiously, saying hello to everyone.

In the middle of it all, James seemed apparently unflappable. He shook plenty of hands, looked surprised when he got plenty of hugs and enthusiastic welcomes. When Darcy inevitably commented on how good looking he was, Steve said, loudly, that he’d already been complimented plenty, thanks, and that he was just pretending to be humble.

Nat was impressed, however, at how assured he seemed to be. Steve was at the centre of everyone’s attention because he was the mythical friend-who-had-finally-returned-from-an-extended-quarter-life-crisis-slash-a-journey-of-self-discovery and thus had a million questions to deal with from the people he hadn’t seen for a year or more. James was the new addition to it all. For the others it hadn’t been as much of a surprise as it had been for Nat, Clint, and Sam.

But rather than wilt into the background or alternatively force his way into the conversations, he simply stood there and smiled. Said hello and _how are you_ and _it’s good to meet you_ and _yes, I’m Steve’s boyfriend_ and it was all very pleasant.

When the group finally relented, however, and started to drift en mass into the yard, he walked over to Nat and Clint and exhaled, finally looking frazzled.

“May I have one of those?” he asked, pointing to the beer Clint held in his hand. Clint snorted.

“Yeah, man,” he said, cracking one open. “You can have all of them.”

James didn’t, in the end. He switched to soda after finishing the bottle and that was that. They grabbed seats in the yard and Clint put on his _kiss the cook_ apron because he like a cliché as much as any man did and began to grill with fervour and conversation flowed so easily that it was like Steve had never left and like James had never _not_ been there. Granted, he was as quiet as he had been at the diner that first day, but whenever he spoke up or was asked something he was genial and funny, with a dry humour Nat sensed was darker than he was letting on.

By six thirty, they were eating. Half of the group were focused on Steve’s long-winded explanation of how he’d found himself locked in a museum one night, while the other half were in their own conversations.

Nat, eating the burger Clint had artfully constructed for her, was listening to Thor and Clint comparing the distance and speed potentials of arrows and hammers, which, if she was honest with herself, was a totally expected conversation for the two of them. On her other side, Wanda and Jane were talking about robotics and Nat didn’t have the willpower to join in. The duality of the group was truly inspiring.

By seven-thirty, the sun was dimming and the playlist had been surreptitiously changed. Nat had been grazing on a bowl of pretzels, not really hungry but certainly feeling snacky. Darcy had done an enthusiastic thirty seconds of dancing in competition with Sam and Nat had gotten up multiple times to show her guests how to work the tricky lock on the bathroom.

Eventually, however, a few drinks in for everyone except for Riley and Jane, who were both driving, and James, who had been working his way through a two-litre bottle of coca cola, Thor managed to redirect the group’s collective attention.

“A toast,” he said with natural gravitas, settling his giant body, the only one which beat James, into a camping chair. “To our good friend, Steven, for returning home in one piece—” Everyone raised their glasses high for that one, because they had all taken bets that he wouldn’t, “—and a toast to our new friend, James, who most certainly played a part in this miracle.” Thor smiled drunkenly at James, who looked both entertained and a little amazed at being addressed by the Norwegian man, which summarised Thor Odinson’s vibe very well. “Welcome,” Thor said. “I assure you that America will be a disappointment.”

James laughed at this. They all toasted again, and Steve said something to James which made him laugh again, low, quiet. Steve grabbed his free hand and James lifted it up and kissed it.

Thor wasn’t done, next asking what was perhaps the most important question of the evening.

“Are you two going to share with the group how you met?”

A round of faux-scandalised gasps swept into the air but everyone was immediately desperate to know. Nat was honestly surprised they hadn’t covered it at Angie’s, though her frosty attitude probably hadn’t helped with the sharing.

Steve glanced at James and then at the others. “Uh…” he said, face going a little red. Nat narrowed her eyes.

“That doesn’t mean tell us _everything_ ,” she clarified, and James drolly tilted his cup, making her laugh. This made him laugh too, eyes shining, and Steve slapped his leg.

“Bucky was a _tour guide_ in Bucharest,” he explained, trying to regain his composure even though his ears were bright red. “When I arrived I went on one of his group tours and thought it was pretty good and then I heard he did more specialised tours so I signed up. And _then_ we got talking—”

“Steve would not stop asking me questions,” James interrupted.

“I was interested in the city!” Steve protested, and James’ eyebrows lifted as he leaned back in his seat, gesturing for Steve to continue. “As I was _saying_ ,” Steve said. “We got talking. And after the tour I offered to buy us coffee. And that was that.”

“Huh,” said Sam, leaning over Riley to grab the bottle opener. “Sounds like there’s a few chapters missing to that story, Steve.”

“I lived in an old building,” James said, even as Steve tried to put his hand over his mouth. “I thought it must be nice to give him a tour, get him to see the architecture.”

A peel of laughter span around the group, and James smirked at Steve.

“He clearly liked the architecture,” said Darcy, clinking her glass against Thor’s.

“Best I’ve ever seen,” Steve muttered, and then he got up and headed inside, presumably to find a Wanda, who bullied him least.

Nat glanced sideways at James. This was the first time he’d been left alone with the larger hoard, but he didn’t look concerned. He just sat there, looking pretty relaxed in the glow of the fire and the lanterns. In some ways, he seemed like an inversion of Thor.

But he had a tell, of course. Nat was good at picking them out. She needed to be able to spot it if she couldn’t otherwise read him. He was curling and uncurling the fist of his left hand, even as it rested on his thigh. It was a slight bit of tension or anxiety in someone who had otherwise been pretty calm.

“If you were a tour guide in Bucharest, how did you two end up in Prague?” asked Riley. “Don’t tell us you followed Steve there.”

“Ah, no, I did not,” James admitted. “I did not expect to see him again after Romania. But I soon left to see a friend in Prague—and when I get there I think I see someone who is familiar walking in the street and it was Steve.” He looked across. The man in question was following Wanda back out of the kitchen, holding bowls replenished with snacks. “I think it was the world telling me something.”

“And you’re _sure_ Steve didn’t follow you? You’re sure it was a coincidence?” Clint asked.

“Yes,” James said, chuckling. “I am ninety per cent sure.”

“ _Ninety_?” Steve asked as he went past him, setting down the bowls. “Buck, that’s not reassuring.”

James just smiled at him and when Steve sat down, James’ hand went to his thigh automatically. Nat looked at Clint, who had dip on his face. She offered him a napkin.

Later, with Thor, Darcy, Jane, Sam, and Riley already gone, and Wanda waiting for her brother to swing by from his shift to take her home, she, Nat, and Steve sat wrapped in blankets by the fire pit to drink and gossip. Clint and James had gone inside an hour prior to play video games so, inevitably, conversation swung around to talk about the meet-cute James had revealed earlier.

“It sounds like a sweeping romance,” Wanda said, leaning in. She was the romantic of the group for sure, Sam coming in close behind. “I mean, come on. He was your tour guide? A hottie teaching you about a beautiful European city. Parting ways never to see each other again and then _ending up in the same city_?” She put her hand to her chest. “Ugh, you couldn’t write this kind of thing.”

Steve was looking pleased. “It is kind of crazy,” he said, almost to himself. “I never expected it.”

“None of us did,” Nat said, poking him. “I always thought there was no one good enough for you.”

Steve stuck out his bottom lip. “Oh, Nat. Stop.”

“As in you have ridiculously high standards,” Nat clarified, eyes narrowed. “I’m not saying there’s no one worthy of you, Rogers.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Look,” he said. “I went to see art, and I couldn’t go all that way without bringing some back with me.”

He broke into a stupid grin halfway through the sentence, somewhat lessening the impact of what Nat was sure he thought was an incredibly witty joke. She and Wanda booed, loudly, and Steve drained his glass.

“You two are the worst,” he said. “I’m going to bed. _Goodnight_.”

He patted Wanda on the head as he passed her, and they watched him swaying a little as he went up the path and into the spare room he’d claimed earlier in the day.

Once they were alone, Wanda put her chin in her hand and sighed.

“Will I ever find romance like that?” she mused.

“Maybe not like that, but you’ll have your own kind of romance,” Nat said. She thought of Clint. How he wasn’t the best at romantic gestures but that didn’t matter because Nat didn’t really care for them anyway. Clint was good at unexpectedly telling her she looked beautiful, or at hitting himself in the forehead with a hammer while trying to construct a desk for her and telling her _it’s worth it for you, babe_ while they sat in the emergency room trying to stop blood dripping down his face.

“You and Clint are just as bad but in a different way,” Wanda said. She wiggled her finger at Nat. “Don’t pretend like you two aren’t disgustingly comfortable with each other.”

“What _ever_ ,” Nat said, hiding her smirk into her glass.

Wanda’s phone lit up. “Pietro’s here,” she said, groaning as she stood up. “Good timing I think or I might have started to feel depressed about my love life.”

“Hey,” Nat said, grabbing their empty glasses. “Maybe you need to travel _like you always said you were going to_. Then you’ll meet the man of your dreams.”

She was kind of joking, but also not, and Wanda seemed to know that. She considered as they walked through the house towards the front door.

“That would be like copying, though, right?” she said. “If I picked up someone while abroad?” She leaned into the office-come-home-gym-come-spare-room where James and Clint were playing video games. Steve was lying flat on his face on the couch. “See you boys later!” she said. “It was nice to meet you, Bucky.”

Clint didn’t even respond, but James looked over, a genuine smile on his face.

“It was nice to meet you too, Wanda,” he said. “Give me that paprikash recipe.”

“Sure thing, but you’ll have to lower the spice level for Steve.”

“Steve can hear you,” said the man himself, lifting his head.

Nat waved at Pietro from the door and waited until the twins were out of sight before heading back inside. It was late but it had been a good day. It was rare that they could all get together like this, but she’d forgotten how tiring it could be to spend almost an entire day with nine other people all crowded into her home.

“Steve, are you feeling okay?” she asked, poking him.

“I’m ready for bed,” he grumbled, and she lifted his legs and sat down, letting them lay over her thighs. She watched Clint skid past James on Mario Kart and felt the remnants of her wine buzz beginning to fade into a nice warm glow.

The next morning, Nat woke, stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen, and almost dropped into a defensive position when a tall, broad shape appeared in her periphery.

“Jesus Christ,” she said, gathering her composure. James was making coffee, hair messily tied back out his face.

“Sorry,” he said, voice gravelly. “Steve won’t get up unless he has coffee.”

“Tell me about it. Coffee grounds are like smelling salts for Clint.”

They stood quietly for a few moments. Nat peered out into the yard to check the damage, though it looked pretty tidy all things considered. Back in the kitchen, James had kindly made enough coffee for them all, so Nat just had to pour and stir some creamer into her own.

“How’d you sleep?” she asked. “Sorry about the sofa bed.”

“No, no, it was comfortable,” James said. “Thank you for letting us stay.”

“Of course,” Nat said. It wasn’t far from her place to Steve’s, but she’d offered anyway. Things were still a little awkward between them. Stilted, overly polite. Nat was the best friend, James was the surprise boyfriend. Of course it was going to be a little weird. She had to keep remembering that they’d known each other for just barely over a week.

James picked up the two mugs of coffee. “See you in a while.”

“See ya,” Nat said, and she watched him walk away, towards the spare room. He was oddly quiet for such a bulky individual, unlike Steve, who somehow managed to channel the noise of a herd of wildebeest into his bony frame.

Nat finished making her and Clint’s coffee and took it back to their bedroom. Forty-five minutes later, she was back in the kitchen, feeling a lot more awake. She was standing at the sliding doors, watching Clint messing around with Lucky in the yard when Steve shuffled in.

“I didn’t drink that much,” he said grumpily.

“You’re a lightweight,” Nat said, walking back to the kitchen to find him some painkillers. “You just need to accept that. James looked better.”

Steve pulled a resentful face. “That’s what you get for not drinking.” He rubbed his forehead. “He’s an insufferable early bird.”

“And you’re insufferable either way when you don’t get enough sleep.”

Steve groaned. “Don’t be mean to me,” he whined, and Nat grinned. Their friendship had continued as it had been before he’d left, and she was glad. She eyed him sadly slurping down a glass of water. He was wearing some artfully ripped jeans and a sleeveless shirt. He had a collection of new-looking bruises on his neck that he didn’t seem quite aware of.

Nat grabbed his hoodie from where he’d left it slung over a chair the night before and threw it at him.

“You’re like a goddam teenager,” she said, and it took him a moment to realise what she was talking about. He put his hand on his neck, going red.

“Shut up,” he said, yanking the garment on. “It’s not my fault.”

“I didn’t think you’d done it to yourself,” she said, laughing. She patted him on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you, Steve, honestly.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled.

She leaned against the countertops and smirked at him.

“So he was a tour guide, huh?” she said. Steve narrowed his eyes at her.

“I’m not aware of many tour guide jokes,” he said. “And yes, he was.”

Nat waggled her eyebrows. “Was the private tour extra, or did you get it for free?” she said, and Steve gave her a look of disgust and didn’t answer.

The weekend passed, and since he’d failed to carry out his plans of giving James a tour of the city he was now calling home during his first week there, Steve decided to make up for it with a trip starting on the Monday. It was early, even for him, when he posted a picture in the group chat of his view as he walked down the street, towards the city centre.

 **Steve:** _starting the tour! No pressure or anything, not like Bucky was a professional guide or something_

 **Darcy:** _DC isn’t exactly a historical city, either…_

 **Wanda:** _good luck and have fun!_

 **Sam:** _it is literally dawn, steve, D.C. doesn’t have that much to see_

Steve’s response was a selfie of him and James. It was poorly angled since their height difference was quite severe, and Steve looked like he’d had too much caffeine already while James looked more frowny that Nat had seen so far, and that was saying something, especially since Steve had described him as a morning person. Apparently that didn’t mean he wanted to be in the middle of the city with a caffeinated Steve Rogers.

 **Nat:** _jesus steve, share your coffee with that man_

 **Clint:** _and a medal for putting up with you_

An hour later, the pictures started coming in. Steve was like a tourist again, and for a moment it almost felt like he’d never come back to the States, that he was still sightseeing and flooding their chat with sporadic photos and videos amidst their usual chatter.

Only this time, there was someone else in half the photos. Steve and James together. Steve alone. James alone. Cutesy couple photos and activities that received vomiting gifs and heart emojis in near-equal measure. They went to the White House and the chat briefly turned to politics before Steve added a photo of the taco stand they were at. Next they walked up the Mall to the Lincoln Memorial and the MLK Memorial, along the banks of the Potomac, and dipped into the National Air and Space Museum with promises to return because James apparently wanted to stay there all day. They went to Ambar on Capitol Hill to grab food and Steve reported on James’ reviews of the cuisine, and then managed their way to the Arboretum to escape the crowds.

Around eight pm, Steve sent a final photo. They were back in their apartment, and James was passed out on the couch, shoes still on is feet, arm over his face.

 **Steve:** _I think I did a good job!!!_

 **Sam:** _you’re meant to make him want to stay, steve, not scare him off_

 **Riley:** _I see what you’re doing steve_

 **Riley:** _taking away all his energy so he physically can’t leave_

 **Wanda:** _I can’t BELIEVE you went to such touristy spots_

 **Thor:** _I believe Norway beats all of this_

 **Steve:** _you’re right, thor. I think about Norway all the time :/_

 **Steve:** _we have plenty of time now to see more of the city guys, don’t worry :)_

A few hours later, as Clint was taking Lucky out before bed and Nat was scrolling through her phone, Sam sent her a text.

 **Sam:** _you still worried about him?_

Nat bit her lip. No clarification was needed.

 **Me:** _a little. Not as much. I talked to james and he said he wasn’t offended or anything and i know im being rude but he’s still a stranger._

 **Sam:** _to us, perhaps. Not as much steve._

 **Me:** _they’ve known each other for half a year_

 **Sam:** _I moved in with Riley after two months_

 **Me:** _that was different. U’d been friends for years_

 **Sam:** _… ‘friends’_

 **Me:** _gross_

Clint let Lucky back in and the dog bounded over, tail wagging furiously. Nat ruffled his ears.

“Coming to bed, babe?” Clint asked, kissing her on the cheek.

“In a minute,” she said, distracted. He peered at her phone.

“Wilson still not convinced?”

“More than I am,” she said, rubbing her eyes. She looked at Clint. “Am I being an asshole?”

He blinked at her. “A little,” he said, eyes widening when she shoved him. “Hey, I’m being honest,” he said, eyes sparkling with laughter. “Look, I get it. He popped up out of nowhere and he’s quiet and big and scary-looking but I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.”

Nat sighed. She felt exhausted by it all. It was a mix of jealously and then guilt for feeling jealous, plus uncertainty and vague distrust, which added to the guilt, and it was all a bit messy.

“I think Steve will be alright,” Clint said.

“I’m not worried that he’s going to get, like, _killed_ or something. I just don’t want him to get hurt. If he makes a mistake. If James isn’t who he thought.”

“Did you tell him this? James?”

“Sort of.”

“And what did he say?”

“That he was here for Steve, not for any other reason. No ulterior motives.”

“So what is it that’s making you worried?”

Nat sighed heavily. “I don’t know,” she murmured. She wasn’t exactly telling the truth. It was because she couldn’t read James, but he seemed to know exactly what she thought about him before she even said it.

A few weeks later, it all came to a head.

Clint was at Sam and Riley’s place so she’d invited Steve and James over to hang out. When only Steve appeared at her door, he explained that James was working and couldn’t make it. She nodded and moved on and it was only an hour or so later, as they sat on the couch with the TV on in the background, discussing how Steve’s stuff was due to arrive the next day after being shipped across the Atlantic, that she thought to seek out further details.

“So,” she began. “James has a job, then?”

“Almost,” Steve said, elbow resting against the back of the couch. “There’s still a load of tedious, unnecessarily complicated paperwork he has to do first.”

“Has he got a plan, then?” she asked. “I mean, it’s not like he could be a tour guide in a city he doesn’t know.”

Nat couldn’t even think of what James would do. Steve had a plethora of freelancing gigs constantly in progress, and frequently taught at campuses across the state—it was clear what direction he was going in. But James was an enigma. He’d hardly talked about himself or his life. He couldn’t have been a tour guide the entire time, surely? It couldn’t have paid enough to allow him to follow Steve around Europe and then to the States. When she’d talked about it with the others Sam had semi-seriously suggested he take up ultimate fighting.

She had meant it as a light question, but Steve scowled at her.

“Why are you giving him the fifth degree?” he said, his voice colder than she expected.

“I’m not,” she said. “I’m just curious.”

“That’s not how it feels from my side,” he said. “Or from Bucky’s.”

Nat sat more upright. This argument had been a long-time coming. “What do you mean by that?”

Steve’s expression was sharp, hurt. “From the day I came back you’ve been standoffish. He doesn’t know anyone and he’s not going to hurt me or you or anyone else. I know you’ve talked to him about it—he said you’d apologised for being unwelcoming. But you’re still doing it and I don’t even know if you realise how it’s making him feel.”

Distantly, Nat knew it mustn’t have felt great to be on the other end of her narrowed eyes. She was just too stubborn to do anything about it. Everything was all knotted in her chest. Deep down she understood that if she kept letting her generally unwarranted and as yet disproved anxieties get in the way it would irrevocably damage her fledging relationship with James. It would undoubtedly spill over into her friendship with Steve.

“I get he’s new. He’s a stranger. I know it’s _crazy_ that we’re here, together. _I know that_. I didn’t think you’d be best buddies straight away, of course not. I just figured you’d get on like a house on fire. Except you haven’t, because you haven’t given him a chance.”

“Steve—”

“I know what the problem is. He’s quiet and he doesn’t talk about himself and you can’t get a read on him and that freaks you out. I’m not blaming you for it and I think you know all this already. I’m just saying that you need to get over it, please, because it’s making everything harder than it should be.”

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, blowing out a breath. Nat didn’t say anything, letting him have the floor. Everything he’d said was right but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel a little attacked. She had every right to be unsure. She had every right to not instantly be James’ friend.

“I refuse to lose you or him, and I’m not choosing one over the other,” Steve said stubbornly. “I love you both, Nat, and I want you two to be friends. And I _know_ you could be friends. But that’s never gonna happen unless you tell me what your problem with him is. He’s literally done nothing to warrant you giving him a cold shoulder.”

He peered at her. They didn’t argue often, didn’t expel their emotions in big swoops like this. But they were always honest with each other. Nat had to match his honesty with her own.

“I just feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop,” she eventually said. “Like I’m waiting for some kind of truth to come out.”

“What kind of truth?”

“Like—I don’t know. I’ll admit I thought maybe it was a green card thing or something at first. Maybe he was trying to take advantage of you or something, but even he could see that and shot the idea down.”

Steve scoffed.

“I know! I know it’s… stupid. I didn’t say that I thought I was right. It was just a thought.”

“Right.”

“I can’t figure him out. That’s all. I was taken by surprise when you arrived with him without ever telling me anything about him and then I was jealous because I was worried you’d stop hanging out with me. With Clint and Sam and everyone especially after a _year_ apart. I was worried things would change.”

“They have changed. I don’t think for the worst.”

“No. No, you’re right. But I still felt like that—I still kind of do. You’re right. I can’t get a read on him and that bugs me out. At first he seemed kind of possessive and I didn’t like that.”

“You can’t get a read on him just from watching him,” Steve said. “Which is what you’ve been doing.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Maybe you should try a different approach, then. Try and get to know him first instead of interrogating him about everything. He’s really sweet and I know he wants you to like him.”

Nat rubbed her temple. “There’s just something about him…”

“That you don’t trust?”

“No. No, I—it’s not about trust. I don’t think. I don’t know. I just almost feel like he’s deliberately hiding something.”

“He’s shy.”

“That’s not the same.”

Steve sighed, eyeing her. Nat was usually eloquent but she just couldn’t get this out. Couldn’t get it out that she didn’t want to be causing problems, but that she still felt like James was an elephant in a china shop which was one ear-flap away from knocking over everything but which was near-invisible, or just ignored, by everyone else.

“I can’t get a read on him. For whatever reason.”

“You need to assess new people—I’ve seen you doing it before. You did it with Peggy. You did it with Brock—”

“I was right about Brock, that asshole.”

Steve looked deadly serious. “Bucky is not Brock. He’s the complete opposite.”

“I can see that already.”

“And that’s not the point I’m making. I’m just saying that it might look like Buck is putting up all these walls because he _is_ , but only because all of you, but especially you, have been treating him with this undercurrent of suspicion since the day he got here.”

Nat furrowed her brow. Put herself in James’ shoes. She knew what it was like to come to a new country and have everyone stare at you. It must have been worse to come to a new country and have to navigate an existing network of friends, worse than entering a sea of strangers. And if she was right in the middle, looking for evidence that James was up to no good or not who Steve believed he was, it couldn’t have been fun for him.

“Is he upset?” she asked quietly, embarrassed. The initial flare-up of tension and anger in the air had faded. Now it was just Nat forcing herself to admit to what she’d known from the start and Steve trying to juggle between his best friend and his boyfriend.

“A bit,” Steve said, equally as quiet. “Things have been… stressful for him. More than we expected. I’m not looking for you two be exchanging friendship bracelets or anything. I just want you to be sure that my best friend—” he reached out and squeezed her forearm, “—and my boyfriend get on. That’s all I want.”

“I’ll talk to him,” she said. “Not talk _to_ him. _With_ him. I’ll say sorry again.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you,” he said. He smiled at her. “You’re not going to lose me, Nat. I promise.”

Later, just before he made to leave, they hugged each other tightly. It felt good to have cleared the air, to have laid out their respective concerns and talked about it. Now Steve knew that Nat wasn’t _just_ a jealous bitch and Nat knew that Steve was going to ensure she and James became friends even if it killed him.

“Clint likes him,” she said. “He’s emasculated but he likes him.”

“I gathered that from the video games the other week,” Steve said, smiling. “I know Wanda, Thor, and Jane have been talking to him. He’s a science nerd as well.” Nat smiled at this. Steve adjusted his jacket and elbowed her.

“Hey, don’t be surprised if you still don’t get a read on him,” he advised easily. “That’s just his personality, he can’t help it.”

“Just like you can’t help being right all the time?” Nat asked, opening the door for him.

“Name one moment where I’ve actually been wrong,” he quipped. “And no, you can’t use bringing home a mysterious Romanian man after a few months of dating as your answer. That’s just an outlier. Couldn’t have been predicted.”

Nat ruffled his hair. “Go and run home to him,” she said fondly. Steve went down the corridor and jumped in the air, clicking his heels together.

“I’m taking that as you giving your blessing!” he called, and he stuck his tongue out at her before walking away.

Nat inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. She was more than a little relieved to have finally talked. And now she knew that she had to deal with it and talk to James and trust that Steve knew who the man was.

“You didn’t know everything about me at first,” Clint said later than evening, when she’d regaled her and Steve’s discussion to him.

“I knew plenty about you,” she fired back.

“But not all of it,” he said, grinning. He stood up and cocked his hip in her direction. “Babe, you know you wouldn’t have been able to deal with all this without at least a few years to build a resistance to my charm.”

He spun his baseball cap around on his head so it was sideways and puffed his chest out. Nat was glad she had perfected her RBF over the years so that her mouth didn’t so much as twitch. But then Clint winked at her and tragically she couldn’t help but smile.

“Dick,” she called after him and he made an obscene gesture that had her running after him and Lucky barking the house down and Clint complaining about bullying.

A week or so later, Nat was yet to make good on her promise to Steve and organise to spend some time with James, get to know him better and see why Steve liked him, why the others had been able to be friendly so much quicker than she had.

She didn’t want to text him and set up a meeting because that felt too formal but she also didn’t want to casually start talking to him when a bunch of them met up for coffee or whatever. Her guilt had eaten her alive already, and now it was just a restlessness. She needed to apologise again and at the same time learn more about the man her best friend was utterly enamoured with.

Steve’s love for James and James’ love for Steve was sickeningly obvious. Nat used to think that Sam and Riley were the worst, but she now understood that they were simply the most obnoxiously worst. Steve and James were the worst because they were constantly sweet to each other. Even in the middle of a caustically sarcastic ribbing of one and other, there was care. The pessimistic part of Nat’s head told her it was because they were still technically in the early stages of their relationship, when everything was fuzzy and heightened. The part of her head that was a little bit of a romantic said that it was just Steve and James. That it was just how they were, how they were going to be.

She tried not to think too hard about how she might be putting undue stress on their relationship. As time passed, she made sure to directly ask James questions—watching her tone so it couldn’t be misconstrued as an interrogation—and made sure to smile at him. When she and Clint went on a double date with James and Steve, she was mindful to keep James included without making him feel coddled. At the end of the night she hugged him and expressed her sympathy at yet again having to look after Steve, who had consumed exactly three glasses of wine.

James smiled at this, and then looked down at Steve, who was leaning against him, clumsily scrolling on his phone, and utterly swamped in James’ jacket.

“Believe it or not, I knew from the start that he was like this,” he said fondly. “Steve might have found himself in some trouble in strange cities if not for me picking him up from the pavement.”

Nat knew there was a story there but it was for another time.

“You’re my hero in that regard,” she said, and he smiled at her, brighter.

“Have a good night,” he said, and when he and Steve had vanished down the street she looked at Clint.

“He’s your hero, huh?” he said, pursing his lips and raising his eyebrows. “One minute you didn’t like him, and now this?”

“I never said I didn’t like him,” she protested, poking him in the side. He looped his arm through his and pulled her down the sidewalk.

“Sure you didn’t, babe,” he said, and she rolled her eyes, happy and glad the evening had gone so well. Bit by bit she hoped she was chipping away the first perception of herself she’d given to James, a rebuilding their relationship, or what little of it existed in the first place.

A day or two passed, and Nat next bumped into James at their local gym. She and Clint went pretty regularly, the former out of routine and the latter because he, quote, ‘liked to watch her run’. Clint was a dog, except that was an insult to Lucky. Clint was just a frat guy who’d never been in a frat.

“Wait, is that—?” Clint said as they walked through the complex to the treadmills. Nat looked up from her fitness app and followed his gaze, and sure enough, in the weights section, doing chin-ups, was James. They stopped and watched him for a moment. He had impeccable form and was clearly strong, lifting himself with ease, clearing the bar each time.

“Damn,” said Clint. Nat echoed the sentiment.

“And look at that ink,” she added. She hadn’t realised how covered up he’d been for all the time she’d known him. She’d seen evidence of a tattoo on his wrist at the airport but had pretty much forgotten about it. But now he was in a sleeveless compression shirt that not only made him look even bigger, but displayed a full sleeve over his left arm.

“Come on,” she said. “We’re being creeps.”

They went to the treadmills and Nat quickly texted Steve that she’d seen James before they began their warm-up run. Clint finished his two miles and vanished to the mats and Nat kept going until she hit five, slowing to a walk. She caught her breath and drank some water and checked her phone.

 **Steve:** _mmmmmm he’s good at the gym_

Nat shook her head, laughing.

 **Me:** _you’re a creep. Do u want me to send sneaky photos?_

 **Steve:** _yes pls :)_

She sent him an unflattering zoomed-in photo of Clint in the middle of a stretch instead. Steve replied with the sweating emoji.

She did some wall exercises and then went to find Clint again. She found him in the weights section, staring in awe as James deadlifted what had to be at least three hundred pounds.

“I feel like a piece of spaghetti,” Clint said when she came to stand beside him. Nat slapped Clint’s bicep.

“I love spaghetti,” she said.

James dropped the weights and Clint clapped, making James look over.

“Oh, hello,” he said, smiling lopsidedly, removing his headphones. “I did not see you.”

“We’re here all the time,” Clint said, folding his arms across his chest. “I’d be happy to spot you, bro.”

“That is kind of you,” James said. He looked at Nat and nodded. “Natalia,” he said.

“You a trained lifter?” she asked. “That’s a decent amount.”

He rolled his shoulders. “I used to be. It is more for fun now. And for exercise.”

Nat picked up some weights of her own. “You couldn’t convince Steve to come?”

James laughed at this, wiping his hands with a towel and grabbing his water bottle. “Steve complained when he had to climb more than three flights of steps. The gym… he has no interest to be here.”

Nat raised an eyebrow at this, because she would have assumed that Steve, who had a one-track mind to rival Clint, would have jumped at the opportunity to stare at his boyfriend as he got all sweaty lifting weights.

“Well, you have us,” she said. “Clint will be happy for some competition.”

“Oh, you are a lifter too?” James said, with such genuine interest that Nat couldn’t help but laugh as she walked away, Clint shooting her a narrow-eyed look and telling James _I try to be, but I’m not as good as you, man_.

Forty minutes later, with her circuit complete and her stomach rumbling, she went to find Clint and James. They were talking in-depth about something to do with weights but didn’t look to have done much exercise.

“Ready to go?” she asked, towel slung over her shoulder.

They exited the facility and found themselves parked across from each other. Clint and James were still talking, so Nat dumped her stuff in her car and took a photo of them, sending it to Steve.

 **Me:** _I worked out and they stood around chatting_

She walked over to them. James had opened the trunk of his car and was dumping his towel aside.

“I’ve always wanted more,” Clint was saying as she got closer. “I’ve got this one,” he said, pointing to his bicep and the little bow and arrow inked there. 

“He also has a smiley face on his ass cheek,” Nat told James, whose face broke out into a grin.

“Do you have any tattoos?” he asked her. She lifted her shirt slightly to display the spider over her ribs, and twisted her arm to show the stylised dagger over her tricep. “Nice,” James said. Then, smiling at Clint, “You do not have to show me your emoji tattoo.”

“Your loss,” Clint said. James whipped his tank top off and grabbed a grey hoodie from his bag, yanking it on.

“Woah,” Clint murmured, the movement had been quick, but it was enough to see the ink on James’ torso, too, if only for a brief few seconds. A long blade puncturing his ribcage, a bird of prey arching around his side and over his shoulder blade, a leaf design over the other side, some text Nat couldn’t read on the left side of his stomach, what looked like an old style wolf just above that.

“Nice tatts, man,” Clint said.

“Seriously,” Nat added.

“Thank you,” James mumbled, adjusting the sweater’s hood. There was a beat.

“Sorry if we’ve made you uncomfortable,” Nat told him. James lifted his hand slightly in protest, shaking his head.

“It is okay. I will tell him that his friends were, what is it— _ogling_?”

“I’d say admiring,” Clint broke in. “Admiring is about respect, right Tasha?”

“I was ogling,” Nat shrugged. “You can tell Steve.”

James laughed. “Okay,” he said, closing the trunk. “Maybe I will see you again here?” he asked. Nat and Clint both assured him he undoubtedly would.

“See you around, James,” Nat said as she headed for her own car.

“Have a good afternoon,” James replied, and Nat gave him a lazy salute.

Ten minutes later, in the car, Clint blew out a breath, rubbing his hands over his thighs.

“I think I’m gonna get another tattoo,” he said.

“A sad emoji for your other cheek?” Nat suggested.

“No, no, I’ve been inspired. Maybe I’ll get a wolf and an eagle and then like, I don’t know, another arrow?”

“Why not a whole bunch of arrows? Or just Robin Hood.”

“The fox or that dude in the movie?”

“Which movie?”

“Maybe that Katniss chick?”

“Legolas?”

A beat.

“Is that all the archery ones?” Nat asked and Clint grinned. He mumbled on about what else he could get and where on his body. Nat eventually said, “I think one of James’ was special forces. Or military of some kind.”

“Which one?”

“The sword. I’ve seen it before on vets.”

“You think he was military before he became a tour guide? Hell of a job switch.”

Nat shrugged. James was still pretty mysterious, but she’d thought from the start that he perhaps had a military background. Maybe there was a reason he didn’t talk about his past. Riley and Sam didn’t much talk about theirs.

Nat got a call from James. She was surprised. They’d texted only a few times since they’d met after all. It was also the middle of the day.

“Hello?” she said, picking up after a few rings.

“Natalia,” said James. He sounded vaguely harried.

“What’s wrong?” Nat asked, sitting up straight. She immediately thought of Steve. He’d been complaining about a shortness of breath the day before. What if he’d had an asthma attack or something? Did James know how to help him?

“Nothing, not really,” James said gruffly. “I—I was just thinking. It is Steve’s birthday soon. On the fourth. And also the holiday? He gave me a list of things but I do not know where to get them all. And I wanted to get him a few other items. Could you come with me to the stores?”

Nat slumped back in her seat, relieved and also touched at the request. She scanned over her emails. She had little work to do today, given that she was simply waiting on others do get back to her.

“Of course I can,” she told James. “I’d be happy to.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. She heard rustling at the end of the line, like he was searching for something through bags. “I will ask someone else if you are busy.”

“I’m not too busy,” Nat said.

“Okay. I will be twenty minutes if that is good?”

“That’s good,” Nat said. “See you then.”

They hung up. Nat leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temple. So, Steve was fine. More than fine. He had a boyfriend who was so determined to get the right things for him that he’d called for assistance. And she was the asshole who had doubted him two minutes after meeting him.

She powered down her laptop and texted Clint to say where she was headed, and then grabbed her things. A tote bag, a light jacket, her purse, phone, keys. She let Lucky out. As she sat on the deck, watching the dog run around on the grass, she developed a game plan.

This was the perfect opportunity to talk to James, to get to know him. To talk to him post-apology, talk to him away from Steve and their other friends. Break the ice further and make it clear to him that she meant well, that she was sorry, that she wanted to be his friend.

 **Clint:** _u two r gonna be bffs just u wait I can already feel it_

 **Clint:** _I think u both have the same personality deep down inside_

Nat considered the possibility. Maybe Clint was right. Steve had been adamant that she and James would get on, if only she gave him a chance, and Steve would only say something like that if he meant it.

 **Me:** _don’t be jealous babe :)_

 **Clint:** _im jealous u r hanging out with him :(_

Nat rolled her eyes. Clint and James had become obsessive over video games. Sam and James had gelled over cooking. Wanda especially had bonded with James over science and science fiction, since they both read obscure 1900s pulp.

Nat just had to find her niche. Connect to James over something.

House locked up, Lucky rolling around with a toy, Nat went out to wait for James, and after a few minutes, he pulled up in the street.

“Hello,” he said, turning down what had sounded like some very bubbly pop music. As soon as Nat was seated and belted he drove off.

“Hi,” Nat said. “How’s things?”

“A little stressful,” James said. His left hand was clenched tightly around the wheel, the right loose on the gear stick. “Thank you for helping me. Steve gave me this—” he unfurled a long list of items from his pocket and handed it over. Nat blanched at a) the length of it, and b) the state of Steve’s penmanship. “—and I want to get it right. I also wanted to get him some art supplies and don’t want to get it wrong.”

Nat blinked at him. He seemed genuinely stressed about it. As if Steve would crucify him for picking up the wrong thing.

“I think he’s messing with you,” she said. “This is… so specific. You’ve been here what… two and a half, three months? You must have gone shopping with him before.”

“Yes. But not alone. And it is his birthday. I could not bring him with me to buy his gifts.”

Nat folded the list and put it in her bag. The sight of it seemed to be making James’ shoulders go even tighter.

“It’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m happy to help you.”

“You are sure you are not too busy?”

“James,” Nat said. “I would have said if I couldn’t help. Don’t worry about it, we’re going to hit everything on that stupid list and have a good time while we do it.”

James groaned. Nat was a little startled at his clear distress. The man had so far been unflappable. It made sense that it was Steve after all that caused the most anguish.

“Hey,” she said. “Let’s stop for coffee first, and we’ll develop a strategy. We have the whole day, right? There’s no rush.”

They went to a drive-thru and picked up coffee and then parked up so Nat could discuss the list. It was mainly groceries, plus random household items.

“What did you want to get for Steve’s birthday?” she asked. James produced his phone and showed her pictures of some art supplies and a hardback book about some obscure painter.

“I don’t even know what gouache is,” he said, brow deeply furrowed.

“No one does,” Nat sighed, scribbling it down anyway.

They drove on, headed for the grocery store. Nat used the travel to force herself to ask James questions about himself. She had realised that he was still a bit of a mystery. Clint and Sam didn’t know much about him either, and Steve hadn’t been willing to divulge.

“So,” she began. “Tell me about yourself. What’s your favourite colour? Favourite season? Least favourite food.”

James didn’t seem perturbed by her questions. “Will you answer me back if I ask you the same?” he said.

“Sure.”

“Alright,” he said, thinking for a moment. “Blue is my favourite colour. I like winter but not when the snow is melting. And I hate salmon.”

Nat pursed her lips, considering. “Okay,” she said. “My favourite colour is… probably red. I like the spring. I hate cabbage.”

“Cabbage?”

“I ate too much of it as a kid. Even the smell of it—I can’t eat it anymore.”

James laughed. “I understand you. My mother always cooked cabbage. My family was quite poor but even then I could not see why it was always cabbage. What about the other vegetables?”

“I think we had the same mothers,” Nat mused. “How’d you like growing up in Romania?”

“It was okay. I did not know much different until I left. What about you? You are Russian?”

“Technically born here, but I moved away when I was a few weeks old. Raised Russian until I was thirteen and then I was brought back here.”

James nodded. “It is very different here. Childhood.”

Nat nodded too. “Yes,” she said. “You got any siblings?”

“A sister. Rebecca. You?”

“Only child.”

James hummed. “Do you parents live in America too?”

“They died a long time ago.”

James looked at her. “I am sorry.”

Nat lifted a shoulder. “Me too. What about yours?”

“My mother is in Romania still. My sister is in Germany.”

“Do you see them often?”

“Not as much as I should.” James’ jaw worked. Nat sensed it was a sensitive topic. James changed it before she could try to. “What do you do?” he asked. “Steve said you worked for security.”

“Sort of,” she said, shifting in her seat. “I’m not really meant to talk about it. But it’s security and intelligence. US-based.”

James nodded. “Sounds interesting.”

“It is. Not as fun as being a tour guide, though. That sounds great.”

“Ah, well, I am an expert in Bucharest, not so much anywhere else,” James said self-deprecatingly.

“What did you do before that?”

“I had a… government job. A lot of travel.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“No. I was good at it. Very good. But I am a—a pacifist?”

“Yeah, a pacifist,” Nat nodded. She thought of the sword tattoo she’d seen on his ribcage at the gym. She thought about her initial impressions of him—which she’d shared with Sam and Clint. That James was big and dark and hulking, quiet, probably with a dark side. If his past employment was his dark side, she wouldn’t pry. Knowing that he was a self-described pacifist somehow made more sense.

“I will do anything to protect the people I care about, but I do not like violence or war,” James said stiffly.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Nat said as they pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. She also hadn’t meant to pry so deeply, and definitely hadn’t expected to get these kind of answers. James just shook his head.

“You haven’t,” he said. “I just prefer to move on. I am more than that.”

Nat nodded. She respected that.

They got out and grabbed some reusable bags from the trunk. Nat took out Steve’s list and James grimaced at the sight of it.

“We can do this,” Nat told him. “But next time it’s up to Steve because this is a damn _mission_.”

They went into the store, grabbed a basket each because Nat knew she’d inevitably pick up some stuff of her own, and began to shop. James didn’t really know half of the brands or specifics of what Steve had written down, and Nat just didn’t really know where the items were in the store, so it took them a few tries before they got into the swing of things.

“What do you think you’d like to do for work now?” Nat asked as they went down the cereal aisle.

“I am not sure. I have thought about doing personal training? I will have to pass some courses first but I think I could do that. I did think about going to school. Maybe for science. I am not sure yet.”

“Why not do both?” Nat asked. “Wanda could point you to some really good part-time courses.”

“Wanda is so smart. And Jane. I am not at their level,” James said. Nat laughed because that was a fair enough point. Those two women were on a different playing field altogether.

“How about translation?” Nat suggested, a lightbulb moment. “You know so many languages. And it pays insanely well.”

James’ eyes widened. “That is… a really good idea,” he murmured. “As long as my English is good enough.”

“Oh please,” Nat said.

They zipped up and down the aisles. Nat was pleasantly surprised to find that they were an effective team, working together with ease. They chatted as they went, and she realised that they had more in common than she had assumed. She felt that she and James had the same kind of mindset and perspective on things.

In the ‘international’ aisle, James stopped to pick up a few items.

“I am trying to get Steve to keep eating European food,” he said. “American food is bland.”

“I won’t disagree with you there,” Nat sighed, thinking of how Clint would take a piece of white bread and smear it with marmalade and consider it a decent meal, like he was goddamn Paddington Bear.

“Steve stayed with me in Bucharest for a few days when I came back to break my lease and pack all my things,” James said. “We went to a few restaurants and he was mad that he couldn’t speak Romanian.” He smirked at a memory, and then said, in his mother tongue, “ _As if it is hard to learn_.”

Nat, echoing him, said, “ _He complains about learning French but I know he likes showing off. We went to Quebec and he ordered in French every time. So embarrassing.”_

“ _I told him—Steve, I will teach you Romanian—”_

_“I offered to teach him Russian!”_

_“—and he said no. He said I would teach him the wrong phrases and embarrass him.”_

_“Probably because I taught him to say ‘I am very stupid’ and said it was how to ask for where the train station was_.”

James snorted. _“I taught him how to tell people he was ‘ugly and needed a hug’ as if it was the way to ask if they spoke English.”_

Nat laughed loudly. Poor Steve. If this trip was going to prove anything, it was that she would get on with James purely because they both enjoyed bullying Steve.

 _“He deserves it,”_ she said. “ _Did he tell you why he has that little bump in his nose?”_

_“No, but I suppose it is because he was trying to fight—”_

James was cut off and Nat’s joy at trash talking Steve was flattened when an angry old dude standing further down the aisle, wearing a pair of reflective sunglasses and a baseball cap with the flag on it, suddenly yelled to them,

“This is America! Speak English!”

James, to his credit, barely blinked. Nat stuck her middle finger up at the man and gestured for James to keep talking. He tried, but the stranger clearly hadn’t finished.

“Hey! I’m talking to you! Do you even understand me? Huh, do you?”

He was getting closer, now, and he looked mean and also like he had something to prove, a dangerous combination. James without thinking stood to his full height, just slightly in front of Nat. It was enough to be a buffer without making her feel like she was some kind of damsel in distress.

“We understand you just fine,” said James, his voice even, his words clear even through his accent. “But you must feel free to repeat yourself.”

“Fuck you,” said the man.

 _“He is flirting with me? Is this normal in America?_ ” James deadpanned, and Nat snorted.

“If you can’t speak English in America you shouldn’t be here at all,” the man spat, red in the face. A few other shoppers were watching. Two had their phones out. “And keep a leash on your bitch, yeah?”

That last comment was so out of the blue that Nat laughed until she choked.

“First of all,” she said once she’d gathered her composure, schooling her expression into the one Clint called her _murder gaze_. “I was actually born here, you insolent fuck. And second, I’m not _his bitch_. Who the hell do you think you are, yelling at _me_ about being able to speak in another language?”

“You come to America to spread communism,” the man said, pointing his finger. It was utterly useless to try and argue with him. “And _you_ ,” he said, directing his attention to James, who had gone back to browsing a shelf of vegan cheese. James looked across at him with a bored expression that Nat deeply admired. “You’re the problem, here, marrying our women. The lot of you should remember that you’re not _welcome_!”

James laughed briefly at this and then put a block of cheddar into his basket and walked forward.

“If you do not like it, you can leave,” he said. The man spluttered. James made an _ah ah ah_ sound that shut him up. Nat watched, amazed and inspired to see something so petty and yet so disarming coming from his mouth. “And I am not here to marry any of your women. I came here to be with my boyfriend. If you have a problem with me, I’d be happy to take this outside, as I am very sure my good friend here would also be.”

 _My good friend_. Nat nodded, impressed. The man looked cowed, disgusted, vitriolic, and then seemed to realise that James was bigger than he was, and that he had one of those demeanours that meant he was going to be able to beat his ass and looked utterly composed while he did it.

“Fuck you,” said the man, and he walked off. James turned to Nat.

“Will they sell Steve’s coffee here?” he asked. Nat smiled at him.

“Yeah,” she said. “Come on.”

It wasn’t until they were back in the car with their groceries and other household items checked off Steve’s list that she asked James if he was okay.

“That was kind of crazy,” she said. “Thanks for sticking up for me.”

“I did not need to,” he shrugged, sipping the remnants of his now-cold coffee. “Are you also okay?”

“I’m fine,” Nat said. She’d seen that kind of thing a million times before.

She loaded up directions to the independent art supply store James had written down and they took off so he could get Steve’s gifts. As they waited at a red light, she remembered the confrontation and laughed to herself.

“I can’t believe you said _ah ah ah_ to that guy,” she said. James looked vaguely embarrassed.

“It is not my best line,” he said. “But it works.”

“It completely disarmed him. It was amazing.”

James chuckled. “I have done it to Steve before.” Nat sucked in a breath. “Exactly,” James said. “I thought he was going to kick me out. Or try and punch me.”

“Like he’d be able to reach.”

“He is very tall when he wants to be,” James said, grinning, and wasn’t that a great summary of Steven Grant Rogers.

The art shop turned out to be a great embodiment of Steve, too. A huge rainbow flag flew above the door and the window display was chock-full of random supplies and books and other items that Nat didn’t know the purpose of. She checked the list and James’ phone and they began to search, but before long had to seek advice from the sales assistant, who frankly looked overjoyed to help someone with such specific requests.

“Do you paint?” she asked James.

“Not at all,” he said. “My boyfriend… he is very picky.”

“He has great taste,” the assistant said, beaming. When she’d turned her back, James shot Nat a look as if to say _never tell Steve what she just said_.

Gathering all the items and the book took over half an hour. Nat absorbed only a little of the art jargon, but James seemed to be taking it all in, listening hard and weighing up whether Steve would prefer a particular colour or set over another. Once they’d paid and escaped back to the car, he looked utterly exhausted.

“I still do not know what gouache is,” he said, scrubbing his face with his hands. Nat grinned.

“On the bright side, you got everything on the list,” she said, crossing out the last bullet point and handing it to him. He gazed at it and sighed in relief.

“I would not have been able to do it without you,” he said. “Thank you, Natalia.”

“Any time,” Nat said. “I’m always happy to help out a friend.”

It felt a little cheesy, a little obvious, but it felt right. And James’s eyes brightened at the word, even if he didn’t actually say anything about it. Nat accepted that she wouldn’t be able to read him, that most of his thoughts and feelings were hidden on the inside instead of playing out on his face.

This seemed to be confirmed when James cleared his throat five minutes later as they went down the highway. He had clearly been thinking about their tentative friendship.

“If I am honest, I called you so we could spend time together,” he said quietly. Nat peered at him, lifting an eyebrow. He shrugged. “I knew we needed to talk and be around each other in a normal setting. Make ourselves to be friends.”

“And you think it’s worked?”

James tilted his head. “I think so. We yelled at a stranger together. That is good for friends, yes?”

Nat smiled. She’d been wrong. She’d been rightfully uncertain, and vaguely wrong for being _suspicious_. She’d definitely been wrong in thinking that Steve didn’t know who James really was, as if she knew him at all, as if she knew something he didn’t. She’d been wrong to take it out on James instead of going to Steve straight away, or making more of an effort to be James’ friend. She could have caused a real mess of things. It had only taken a single afternoon to make her realise that she liked this man.

It had evidently gotten so bad that he’d had to make up a semi-legitimate reason to force them to be together for a few hours, force them to get to know each other without anyone else. Force them to work together. It also said a lot about him as a person. It made perfect sense to her that Steve would fall for him.

“I think we’re friends,” she said. James nodded.

“Good,” he said. He flexed his hands on the wheel. “You did not like me at first and that is okay. I think perhaps you liked me sooner than you will admit.”

“I’ll never admit anything,” Nat said. James laughed.

“Steve will be glad we are getting on,” he said. Nat pulled out her phone.

“We’ll send him a picture together,” she suggested. “Make him jealous.”

“Will he think we will want to hang out without him?”

Nat grinned at the thought. She leaned towards James across the console, angling the phone, and they both smiled at the camera. Nat captioned it _we’re getting up to no good_ and sent it to Steve.

“I think hanging out with you might be better,” she quipped. “Steve always tries to fight strangers as well but at least you’d actually be able to win.”

“And I am the pacifist,” James sighed, and Nat snorted.

“I don’t know what it is that you saw in him,” she mused. “From what I could tell, he was having the best time of his life in Europe, but was also becoming slightly unhinged. You’re very brave, James.”

James nodded like he agreed. Then he got his dumb _I love Steve_ look on his face and said, “I liked him from the very beginning. On the tours… he was so interested in what I was saying. And he asked questions about the places _I_ liked. The more we talked to more I realised I never wanted him to stop. He is so thoughtful and believes in much. I did not want to live without that.”

He stopped, clearing his throat.

“I am not brave,” he said. “I am maybe very foolish. But what can I say. I like being stupid with Steve.”

Nat felt a little teary-eyed.

“Have you told him that?” she asked.

“In some kind of way,” James said. Nat smiled meaningfully at him.

“I think he would like it if you said it to him exactly as you just did.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He nodded slowly. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching the traffic. Nat pushed away the guilt that reared its head whenever she saw evidence of just how devoted Steve and James appeared to be to each other. She knew she didn’t want to destroy that. Steve would never forgive her. She would never forgive herself.

“Steve is a special kind of person,” she said quietly. “I think you know that.”

“Yes,” James said. “That is why you were worried about losing him.”

Nat nodded. He was right.

When she checked her phone a little while after saying goodbye to James, Steve had replied to the photo she’d sent him.

 **Steve:** _!!!!!! you’re adorable_

 **Steve:** _also I’m scared?? you two are too powerful I did not plan for this_

Nat rolled her eyes. That was Steve’s problem to deal with now.

In the week before Steve’s birthday, Nat found that she was talking to James more than ever before. Not that there was a particularly high threshold to beat, but it felt good. She still felt guilty but now had the added bonus emotion of feeling stupid for not attempting to be friends with him sooner. He was really cool. Not that she was going to admit that to anyone, particularly not Steve.

On the fourth, James put a picture of Steve in the group chat. He was sat on their balcony with a fancy breakfast and a large mug of coffee and had a party hat stuck on his head.

 **James:** _he put the hat on by himself. I did not do this._

Nat beamed at the sight. The chat flooded with well-wishes and embarrassing photos of the birthday boy which had clearly been collected over time for this very moment.

By 5 pm, Nat was dressed up, hair straightened, lipstick sharp, and Clint was re-lacing his shoes for the second time just before they headed out into the hellish traffic to Steve’s favourite restaurant, which had been booked months in advance. They ate delicious food and sang and laughed and then traipsed out to a bar to continue the festivities.

Nat walked alongside James. He looked dapper, as did Steve, and Nat told him so.

“Thank you,” he said lowly. “You look very beautiful, Natalia.”

Nat rolled her eyes. He laughed. She looped her arm through his.

“Don’t flirt with each other!” Steve bellowed from several paces behind them, where he was walking with Riley and Sam. Clint and Wanda were racing ahead, eager to nab a decent place to sit in the bar.

“I thought you wanted us to be friends!” Nat shot back. James was grinning lopsidedly. She grinned back at him. “Have you had a good day so far?” she asked.

“It is not my birthday.”

“No, but Steve can be a bit precious about it because of the holiday. We make an effort to make a big deal out of him, make him feel included.”

“It is like when you are born on Christmas?” James asked. Nat nodded. “No, Steve has been happy so I am happy also. Thank you for your help last week with buying everything.”

“Did he like your gifts?”

“Very much.”

“Good,” Nat said. They were getting closer to the bar and the sidewalk was filling with people. Muffled music filtered into the night air. Nat felt alive and happy to be amidst friends. “Have you been to an American bar?” she asked James. She hadn’t heard about Steve bringing him to one yet.

“We went to one,” James said. “But it was not very good.”

“I bet your standards are really high coming from Europe.”

“Well, Romania isn’t known for their bars and clubs. But Berlin… Berlin is good.”

He smiled at this, obviously remembering something. Nat gaped at him.

“Did you take my innocent Steve to a Berlin rave?” she asked.

“I will show you the pictures one day,” James promised.

Inside the bar, it was rapidly getting crowded. Wanda and Clint had indeed managed to secure somewhere to sit outside on a deck lit by string lights, where they could hear each other speaking.

“I’m getting the first round,” Nat announced, grabbing her phone to gather orders. She beckoned for Clint to come with her to the bar and to help bring back the drinks.

“I’m glad you’re friends with Bucky,” he said as they waited to be served. Nat pushed her hand through his spiky hair.

“Me too,” she said. “Are you still scared of him?”

“I never said scared— _intimidated_ is the word. And no, I’m not. As much.”

Nat grinned. Clint’s eyes widened. “It’s those arms, man,” he said. Nat squeezed his bicep.

“And the death-stare,” she added, and he lifted his eyebrows.

“Babe, I don’t know if you’re aware, but you have a death-stare as well,” he said earnestly, and Nat pinched his arm. “You do,” he enthused. “Steve was telling me earlier that he didn’t want to regret you two being friends because you’re both scary.”

A bartender appeared and Nat quickly ordered, and then looked back at Clint. “You love my scary,” she told him, and he pulled her close.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, kissing her cheek.

They managed to carry back all the drinks without any accidents. Nat handed James a non-alcoholic shot.

“Thank you,” he said, seeming surprised. She just winked at him and then Steve said, already too-loud, _happy birthday to ME!_ and they all drank.

Within an hour, everyone was merry. Riley and Wanda stayed at the table while the rest of them went inside to dance, and Sam complained that now he was the odd one out, because usually he’d dance with Steve.

“Sorry honey,” Steve said, patting his arm, and Sam wormed his way in until he was able to do his thing with Clint and Nat instead. Nat stepped back to lean against the wall and take the pressure off her heeled feet and watched them dance. Clint and Sam doing a weird, half-choreographed number, Steve and James being disgusting, half-grinding, and half jumping to the beat. Nat couldn’t stop smiling at the sight, though. She wasn’t a sappy person, but she was thrilled Steve had found someone. And if that someone was James, she figured he’d be more than okay.

Eventually they went back outside, and the next hour or so was spent chatting and sobering up just a little so things didn’t hit the fan too soon before the fireworks. James had managed to grab a pitcher of water and was making sure everyone had at least a glass each, two for Steve. Nat leaned against Clint until he gave up his jacket for her, and then gossiped with Wanda for an intense twenty minutes during which no one else could pull them out of the conversation.

“I like him,” Wanda said. “I feel like we’ve all had to give our verdict, you most of all. But James is nice. He’s good for Steve.”

Nat, chin in hand, looked across at the two men in question. They were talking to each other, looked loved-up and blissful.

“I like him too,” she said. “And you’re right. He is good for Steve.”

It took another hour for her to actually tell Steve this directly. They had moved on to another bar, this one looking right over the Potomac and providing a taco stand in the huge courtyard at the back that they patronised on sight. After they had eaten, Steve gestured for Nat from across the table and she stood, following him to the railing so they could look out over the water. Boat lights glittered and beyond that the city gleamed.

“How’re you liking your birthday so far?” Nat asked him, hugging him tight.

“It’s been perfect,” he said, grinning. He pulled back. “Thank you for helping Buck. I know he was anxious about getting it wrong.”

“That damn list you gave him was about to kill him,” Nat said. “Did he tell you he yelled at some random dude who told us to speak English?”

Steve’s eyed widened and he span around to stare at Bucky, who looked mildly concerned but didn’t get up. “No, he didn’t,” Steve said, peering at Nat. “Tell me everything.”

So Nat did, and took great pleasure in watch Steve’s face shift from surprise to anger to pride.

“He’s the best,” he sighed. “God, I love him so much.”

“I can tell. He loves you too, Steve-o.” She bumped her hip against his and he looked at her in that meaningful way he had. “I’m happy for you,” she said. “Truly. I’m sorry I made things difficult in the beginning.”

“Thanks, Nat,” he said quietly. He took her hands. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologise anymore. I’m actually a little concerned now that I’ve enabled something that will come back to bite me in the ass.”

“We haven’t ganged up on you.”

“Not yet! And you already speak a million languages together and are all worldly and shit. What if I regret it?”

“I really doubt that you will,” Nat said. Steve leaned his elbows back against the wooden railing. Nat did the same, and they watched their friends sat laughing and chatting.

“When we were in Paris, we were at a bar just like this and he stood up for me,” Steve said, in that distant, deep tone of reminiscing that people slowly coming down from a drunk high did. Nat furrowed her brow. He hadn’t told her about this. “Some asshole was being stupid and Buck stood up for me. And for once in my life it didn’t feel like I was small because of it.”

“I bet he scared whoever it was off right away.”

“He didn’t need to do much, no,” Steve snorted. He bit his lip. “But, _hmm_ , the way he walks around… all big and strong. It does something for me.”

“I can tell,” Nat said, and Steve smirked. Then he sighed and looked all sappy again.

“Bucky is the gentlest person I know. And it’s a cliché, I know, an intense-looking dude who’s actually a marshmallow on the inside… but I guess I am too, just the other way around. I’m short and people underestimate me and think I’m fragile but I’m actually an asshole.”

Nat elbowed him. “You’re a stubborn, prickly asshole,” she clarified. Steve grinned at her. “We all love you for it,” she added, and he rolled his eyes. She poked him. “Though, I have to wonder why it is that you had to go around Europe to finally accept what we’ve been telling you for years.”

“That I’m an asshole?”

“Yes. It can’t be James alone who gave you this much humility.”

“Look, I’m super-smart, super-cute, and super-talented,” Steve deadpanned. “I could go on.”

“Okay, okay,” Nat groaned. “Don’t make me have to bully you on your birthday.”

They stood quietly for a bit, looking out at the city. Then Nat leaned into Steve, and he into her.

“I really missed you,” she whispered like it was a big secret. “I love Clint and Sam and everyone but—I missed you Steve.”

“I missed you too,” Steve said. “I won’t tell you the amount of times I wanted to fly back just so I could hug you.”

Nat pursed her lips, a wave of emotion rushing over her. She held out her arms and Steve did the same, and, laughing at themselves, they hugged each other again, squeezing tight.

“There,” she said. “How is it?”

Steve hummed. “Pretty good.”

Nat pulled back. “I like him,” she said suddenly, and Steve lifted an eyebrow.

“You do?” he asked. Even tipsy, he sounded utterly relieved to hear her say it. Nat felt a little bit like shit for it.

“Yes. And he’s clearly really into you. He’s cool.”

Steve smiled like a dope. “Yeah,” he said. “He is cool.” He exhaled. “I’m glad you think so. He was worried for a long time.”

“You said it yourself—I was judging him from day one. I was hardly nice.”

“You were just worried I was being scammed,” he said dryly.

“Maybe James still has some big master plan. Maybe you’re just step one.”

“Well, he’s got me. Hook, line, and sinker. Step one—check.”

Nat patted him on the cheek. “Good thing you have me then, huh?”

“Yeah, to criticise my _completely innocent_ boyfriend.”

Nat smirked. She lifted her almost-empty glass and he did the same.

“Happy birthday, Steve,” she said. “To you, and to finding love, or whatever.”

Steve smiled. “Yeah. To finding love,” he murmured, and they clinked glasses and drank.

Years later, Nat gives a best woman speech at Steve and James’ wedding. She starts it with: _when I first met James Barnes, I thought he had duped Steve into bringing him to the States. But now all I know is that James was the real sucker after all, because who else would have agreed to follow Steve Rogers to the States after knowing him for less than half a year?_

**Author's Note:**

> saturnblushes on tumblr and pinterest


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